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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

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Smutty one liners- 5

Here ya go, anon! Thanks for the prompt! Set in the universe of my nerdy OLWY babies. Hope that you like it! 5. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

Dany woke to the shrill sound of her phone's email alert, promptly and groggily reaching over and blindly muting it before it had the chance to throttle Jon from his rest.

For a solid few minutes, her sleep-addled mind couldn't determine the reason she would be receiving said notifications on a Sunday, unless it was…

Shit!

She bolted upright in bed, Ghost suddenly jolting with her where he warmed their feet at the end of the bed, half of his face smushed from where it had lain. She gave him a quick scrub under his chin and he resumed his position while, with squinted eyes, she tried to find the suspect labeled URGENT, and thankfully it was sitting right on top of her inbox.

The only time she ever had alerts turned on on weekends was for projects that could potentially be terminated without rapid response, or important work matters that required immediate attention else they lose a deal to a competitor.

As it happened, her eyes hastily scanning the email's contents, this particular affair was both, and there was a video call happening at five a.m. - in four bloody minutes!

As frantically as she could without getting Ghost worked up or disrupting Jon beside her, she scrambled out from beneath the sheets only to be cruelly reminded by the chilly morning air that she had not a scrap of clothing on.

Fuck, she mouthed, positive that her hair was a rats nest at best and there was no clothing in sight; last night they'd been particularly ravenous with each other, and if memory served her correctly, articles of clothing were scattered all throughout the house.

There was no time for a scavenger hunt; given she was at Jon's house, she certainly hadn't thought to bring any business attire, so the only option she could think of off the top of her head was to examine Jon’s wardrobe. And, by some luck, she found a wrinkle-free, plain black button-down on a hanger that was a little on the bigger side, but they wouldn’t be able to tell much. Hopefully.

Everything else...there was no time for. She would have to sit in on the call in only the infamous shirt and nothing else, and hope it didn’t show on her face. In a matter of ninety seconds she managed to brush out her hair, twisted it into a single braid over her shoulder, threw on a quick layer of mascara, and dashed her way down to the kitchen with her laptop. The sight of Jon’s espresso machine had her audibly whining to herself, but there’d be time for that after the meeting.

She switched on the light and propped herself up onto the chair, crossing her ankles, and logged on with seconds to spare. Just before she joined in, she made sure that the camera was well-placed; it was freezing to her warm blood, and the last thing she needed was for her nipples to be on display popping through the thin material. Once all appeared decent, she joined the virtual room where Tyrion, Samwell Tarly, a couple of corporate head honchos, and various other important figures sat.

She felt mortifyingly self-conscious, even if she was the only one aware of her apparel predicament. Still, she carried on as naturally as possible, her voice level and clear and expression not giving anything out of the ordinary away.

Until thirty minutes into some legal jargon, Dany spotted some movement in the next room ahead, peering up over the lid of her laptop to discover Jon approaching: hair fluffed and ruffled, sleepy eyes, lips in a pointed pout while he tried to figure out what was going on, his torse bare and pajama bottoms hanging precariously low on his slim hips. She nearly salivated until she remembered she was on bloody camera. No worries there, since the rest of her body was doing the reacting for her.

She offered as best of a smile as she could without becoming a distraction to the rest of the group, but welcomed his warm kiss once he reached her, just out of camera view. He had gone to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze, and she squeaked, tossing her hand over her mouth and instantly muting herself on the call. Then she remembered she had put her hand over her mouth, lowering it back down, silently thanking herself for not lighting the room too bright so they wouldn’t notice how red her face was...especially since several had curious frowns at their brows.

Briefly, she glanced at Jon, who hadn’t moved, and had a most mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand was still cuffed over her thigh, dangerously close to where she could not deal with right now, else she would probably get fired for some level of indecency.

Dany turned her attention back to the screen, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, tuning back into the conversation. It was actually quite exciting - one more step until Mr. Tarly’s series would be brought to the small screen.

“Dany…,” Jon murmured, and she had to really force herself to pretend she didn’t hear the desire in his voice, responding only with a falsely uninterested hum. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

“I- what are you doing?” She wondered aloud, her lips moving very little despite her audio cut for the moment. She could see her own eyes widen in her camera view as Jon ducked down and knelt before her on his knees, and she about choked when she felt his hands gently pry her legs open and apart.

“Jon!” She whispered sharply, muffling herself as she clasped her fist in her other hand and rested her mouth against it - more as a disguise than anything else, even though he hadn’t quite done anything yet.

Her blinks turned rapid as his hands crawled up the tops of her thighs, undoing the bottom buttons of the shirt, her stomach tightening. His warm lips settled on the side of her knee, his hands curled into the crease of her hips, keeping his voice low but loud enough that she could hear him over whomever was speaking through the speakers (she was only half paying attention at this point). “Want me to hold off?”

The professional side of her urged her to say yes, but the more rational side of her was screaming no, to which she found herself letting one hand slide under the counter to tangle in his hair in encouragement. He grunted in agreement and gingerly tugged her a little closer to the edge of the seat; his breath on her already wet center making her jaw tighten.

First, he used his thumb to glide over her cunt, spreading her mess up to her clit, testing her reactiveness - to which she nearly slid out of the chair and straight onto his face.

“How long have you been like this?” He husked, spreading her apart and tracing every crease and crevice.

A forceful pant blew against the hand she kept firmly perched in front of her mouth, hoping beyond hope she still appeared casual, beginning the slippery slope of losing who was saying what now. Something about legal fees, waivers…

Jon chose that moment to plunge two fingers into her core, and she gripped his hair perhaps a bit too severely, but his retaliation was to pull her clit between his lips, and it took every fiber of her mild consciousness to not throw her head back and scream. But a muffled whimper slipped by, and with every pass of his tongue, or his fingers working in tandem with the heat and slide of his mouth, the only thing she could hear anymore was the thrum of blood flooding her ears. And her face looked so tense in the square box of her video capture that she appeared to be on the verge of crying (which wasn’t all that untrue; her eyes were watering in a valiant undertaking to not inform twelve other people what was happening a mere few inches below her screen).

To give her something, she bit down hard on the inner side of her index finger, and then-

“Er, Daenerys, what are your thoughts?” Tyrion queried, automatically forcing Jon to a halt and her hand flying to her mouse to unmute herself.

“I’m...sorry, can you repeat that one more time? My connection is a little...unstable…,” she laughed nervously, but was screaming internally - partly because it was too close of a call, but also because Jon was sucking a line of kisses along the crease of her thigh, his beard lightly chafing her folds.

At least she disguised her dormant moan with a cough.

“Of course,” Tyrion continued, his face turned slightly downward, but overly curious eyes darted up at her. He reiterated the question she inadvertently missed, and Jon went back to his feasting...and she made a bloody face that was so very clearly one of pleasure, the flat of his tongue swiping up the length of her and landing on her clit again.

Her face was so hot that at this point, she had to assume the rest of the 'room' were professionals at utilizing their poker faces, because if she were them, it would be clear as day what was going on over on her screen.

When Tyrion mused that he was pleased with how enthusiastic she looked over the prospect of the subject at hand, she grit her teeth and squeezed her thighs around Jon's head to trap him there. She needed a minute to recollect her wits, and he was far too talented for her to trust she wouldn't orgasm right on camera. And with her luck, someone will have been recording this session for later reference. She would have to move across the country and change her name and never face those people ever again.

Thankfully, Jon showed her a little mercy, reducing his slow sweet torture to caressing her thighs with his hands. To get Tyrion off her back, Dany expressed her plain enthusiasm for the agreement they were establishing, and fluffed her explanation enough that she knew they wouldn't need to call on her again.

The very second she silenced her microphone, she opened her legs again and Jon dove back in, which was probably a mistake since she'd already been driven close to the brink and he wasn't giving her a moment to graduate into it. Her hand slapped over her mouth, her brow twisting just in time to slam the lid to her laptop down at the conclusion of the call.

Finally, her fingers gripped the edges of the chair and her face turned toward the ceiling, exhaling several lengthy breaths she'd been storing in her lungs for several minutes. Jon's hands roved up her front, popping open the remaining buttons and filled his palms with her breasts, rolling them between his soft fingers.

Jon paused to lift her quivering legs over his shoulders, allowing her to relax them along his back. She sunk one hand through his hair again, the other grasping onto one of his arms as he dedicated all of himself to her pleasure, drawing sharp gasps and gulps of air out of her between his attention split between her clit and her center.

Pivoting her head back down, a pitiful whine passed through her lips seeing his wild bedhead of curls situated between her thighs, his fingers tweaking her puckered nipples. He was plucking every taut string in her body to breaking point; her toes curled against his the smooth skin of his back, wanting nothing more than to be able to lift her pelvis and grind against his face if she knew she wouldn’t fall straight onto the floor. When he lowered one hand and sunk one finger into her constricting walls, she jerked in her seat with a soundless cry, and then he was pumping two at a time, his pitch black eyes drifting upward to latch onto hers. Reading her reactions to measure the pace and the movements that would push her over the edge.

That look was all it took.

Chest heaving, his name spilled from her lips and somewhere along the way, he weaved a hand in hers, all while he brought her down from her high and collected every last drop from her cunt, leaving her as useless as she was a boneless sack of skin and muscle. She could feel how loose her hair had gotten from its hold. Her head found solace on the back ledge of the seat, eyes having fluttered closed when she felt Jon rise, looping her legs around his waist as he braced his hands on the cushion and kissed her.

Keeping her eyes shut, she smiled against him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and trapping him there.

“Good morning,” he greeted gruffly.

Dany hummed in agreement and sucked on his lip before sliding her still-vibrating toes down the sides of his hips and pushed his pajama bottoms down until his flushed cock sprang free. “‘Morning to you,” she returned, reaching between them to stroke him with a feather-light grip. Jon’s face morphed into one of slightly anguished delight, hips surging to seek more.

“I need you,” he murmured, groaning with the squeeze of her hand.

“You can have me,” she kissed him, “if you can get me out of this chair first.”

His arms wrapped around her and in one swift movement he settled her atop the counter.

#jonerys drabble #i did not proofread sooooo 😬#smutty one liners

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cocochannel00 · 4 years

Text

Don’t Leave Me Alone

This is so long overdue and I apologize for such a long wait but here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy and as always requests are slow, but always open!

Description: over 6k words, dad!Harry, husband!Harry, Pregnant Y/n, Angst, Fluff.

Masterlist can be found here!

Sometimes when you’re pregnant all you need is a little break...

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca (1)

You felt like a whale, and not one of those cute baby whales you see at the aquarium. No, you felt like a fat Blue Whale that was about to explode. You were six months pregnant and it had not been as glamorous as Beyonce made it seem. So far you had spent the first trimester throwing up at least twice a day and your second trimester going through insane hot flashes that left you contemplating whether going to the grocery store nude would be that bad of an idea. You were hoping your last trimester would be somewhat more bearable but seeing as the two devils inside you were currently competing to see who could break your rib first, you had a feeling it wasn't going to get better.

You weren't usually one to complain out loud or at least about your own personal problems, but this pregnancy, unlike your last two, was starting to get on your last nerve and so was Harry. You admit you were a bit more agitated than normal but Harry was definitely not helping. He had taken his own form of paternity leave a little over three weeks ago after a small scare you had with one of the twins. You thought that having him home so much would be amazing and you could use the extra help with Connor and Rebecca, especially since your baby girl was just learning how to properly walk. So far she had nearly cracked her head against the edge of the shoe rack in your mudroom which had led you to bubble wrap nearly every corner of your house. You were nearly at your wit's end and there seemed to be no end in sight.

Luckily today was Sunday so you let yourself indulge in a few extra hours of sleep while Harry watched the kids. You had kicked him out of bed last night because his body was like a furnace and in between the hot flashes you were having and the fact that you were feeling too insecure to lay naked next to him, you had sent him to the guest room. At 3 a.m. Harry thought nothing of it and since he was sleep deprived as well he probably jumped at the chance to get away from you and get some sleep without all of her moaning and groaning. You and Harry had spent the last week snapping at each other constantly over little things, but you hoped with a couple of more hours of sleep your hormones would cool down a bit even if your body couldn't.

The sun was already shining through the window as you rolled around to check your alarm clock that read 10:30 a.m. Well, at least you had gotten to sleep in a bit before the twins started their kickboxing match. You had just finished the ever-challenging task of sitting up on your bed when you heard two piercing cries come from downstairs. You carefully pushed off the bed and leaned against the nightstand to gain your balance before heading to your closet to get dressed. The only thing you were willing to wear these days were dresses. They were elastic, lightweight, and the only thing that you wouldn't sweat through 30 seconds after putting it on. You decided that you would try and be optimistic about the day so you wore Harry's favorite blue dress with sunflowers. You should have thrown it out after your first pregnancy but it held so many memories that you couldn't get yourself to part with it. You were just walking out of the room when a crying Connor came barreling towards your legs.

"Mama" he cried as he buried his face in your dress. You could barely see him under your belly but you wrapped your arms around his back and stroked his brown curls softly.

"What happened baby?" you asked quietly as he scrunched the end of your dress in his tiny fists and wiped his eyes.

"I play with Becca... and fell... and dada mad...and I cry" he mumbled.

"Oh, baby I'm sure it was an accident. Is Becca okay?" you asked as you grabbed his hand and started carefully walking down the stairs with Connor.

"Uh-huh mama accident" he mumbled with a slight lisp.

"That's okay, baby. I'm sure daddy was just worried and that's why he got mad. Let's go make sure Becca's okay" you replied back as you made it down the last steps of the stairs.

You waddle passed the kitchen door to find Harry sitting on a kitchen stool with your daughter in his arms, an ice pack placed on your baby girl's lip as big crocodile tears fell down her face.

"Connor I think Becca would feel so much better if you drew her one of your special pictures. Do you think you could draw her one?" you asked your baby boy as you rubbed his back.

"Yes, mama I draw. Stickers too" he mumbled as he ran into the adjacent living room.

Once your baby boy was cheerful again you made your way to your daughter and picked her up from your husband's arms.

"And what happened to you, my love? I leave you with your dada for five minutes and you get a boo-boo on your lip" you whispered to her as she tucked her face into her neck.

"Dada turned around for 2 seconds and this is what happened" Harry grumbled as he leaned against the granite countertop.

"Two seconds?" you questioned as you bounced your little girl softly. Harry groaned.

"Ok, it was like 5 minutes. Jeff called me and we were trying to figure out when would be a good time to get into the studio before you give birth and I was distracted and I heard her scream and there was blood and I yelled and Connor started to cry and..."

"Harry I told you already that you can't leave her alone. She's just figuring out how to walk and she bumps into everything. What did she even hit her lip on? Every sharp edge of the furniture is wrapped in bubble wrap." you replied harsher than you wanted too.

"I don't know (y/n). I was talking and she must have bumped her lip on the floor or maybe the bottom leg of the table? It wasn't my fault, it was an accident" He exclaimed defensively as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Harry, it is your fault though. You should have been watching her while you were on the phone. You watch tv while on the phone all the time! The least you could do is watch your own children" you replied back in frustration. You weren't sure if it was your hormones or the fact that you were hungry that was causing the wave of anxiety and anger, but you had a feeling this conversation wasn't going to end well.

"I get it (y/n) I should have been watching her, but maybe if I wasn't getting kicked out of my own bed at 3 am because of your moods. I'll make you some breakfast, maybe it will make you less cranky" he grumbled as he made his way to the toaster.

"I don't want your stupid breakfast and I'm sorry if the two children you helped create make my body feel like it's burning. Maybe we should get you pregnant and see what happens" You repeat harshly as you cradle your baby and went to put her down in her highchair with some cheerios.

"Love, I want to help you... I know this pregnancy has been much harder than the others but I can't help if you kick me out of our bed. You need to tell me what you want me to do" Harry pleaded as he placed some bread in the toaster and turned to face you.

"I want these babies out. I want to not be the size of a whale. I want to sneeze without peeing myself and I want to walk more than five feet without getting heartburn. I want..." you started before the tears began to fall.

"Oh baby, no" Harry mumbled before he ran around the counter to engulf you in a hug. "I know this has been hard and I'm sorry I haven't been as helpful as I should have. I'll make more time for our family and I'll-"

"But I need you to actually do those things, H. You promised me when we got pregnant that you'd be finished with everything by the time the babies got fussy" You mumbled as you put your hands on his chest

"I know, love, and I am, I promise. Once the band and I record a couple more songs in the studio next week I'm all yours," he whispered as you shook your head violently.

"No! You won't be all mine. You'll find something else you'll need to do and then I'll have to watch the kids alone and I can barely walk and you're just going to leave"you all but yelled as you turned your back to Harry.

"(y/n)... what? What are you talking about? Of course, I'm going to be here. I've been home for weeks helping out" he replied back confused.

"Harry every day you've been home you're always locked away in your office or the studio downstairs. You bath the kids, you feed them lunch, great! That's the bare minimum. Who's the one that has to stop their tantrums or bubble wrap the house so they won't get hurt or even try and run around the garden with them while being the size of cow cause it sure as heck isn't you. And then once you're done with the album, you'll be on tour and I'll be alone again." you grumbled angrily.

"(Y/n) you are not the size of a cow and you know I'll give up my music the minute you tell me" he replied.

"I don't want you to give up your music" you stated stubbornly as Harry groaned.

"(Y/n), what is this really about then?" Harry asked tiredly.

"I need a break, Harry... I need to get away from here. The stress and the kids and the babies, I just... I need to go" you cried softly as you wrapped your arms around your bump and watched your baby girl play happily with her food, oblivious to the meltdown happening a few feet away from her.

"Baby, you're scaring me. What do you mean by go away? Do you want to head up north together? We can take the kids up to the cottage or visit my mum" he said quietly trying to hug you, but you stepped away.

"No Harry I need to get away from here... from you" you mumbled just as Connor walked into the room with his drawing.

"Mama look finish," he said with a squeal as you quickly wiped your tears and slowly crouched down to look at his drawing.

"It's beautiful, my love! Why don't we hang it on the fridge so Becca can see it every morning?" You replied back with a small smile as you used all of your strength to stand up again.

Harry saw you wobble slightly and quickly went to help you up from your crouched position. You leaned on his body as he steadied you from falling. You mumbled a quick thanks before going to the fridge with your little boy and helping him place his drawing on the fridge door with some magnets.

"Mommy's very tired baby, why don't you ask daddy and see if he'll make you mac and cheese for lunch while I take your sister up for her nap," you spoke to your son as he nodded with excitement. You carefully went and picked up your daughter from her high chair as Harry grabbed your elbow.

"(Y/n) come on, we're not done talking about all of this. You haven't eaten either. You've got me worried" Harry whispered as he looked at you expectantly.

"I'm not hungry now, thank you. It was a long night and I'm not feeling the best. Go make Connor's lunch, please" You replied as you began to make your way up the stairs.

You finally made it up the stairs with only a bit of heartburn to show for it. You carefully placed your baby girl in her crib and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. You whispered a quick goodbye and started packing a bag. As you threw some dresses and a couple of sweaters into a duffle bag you called Anne who thankfully picked up on the first ring.

"Hello (y/n), how are you? How are the babies" she spoke cheerfully.

"Hi, Anne. I'm doing okay, the twins are definitely fighters. They're going to be a handful" you sniffled softly.

"Oh, sweetheart what's going on?" Anne asked, concern laced in her voice.

"I need to get away for awhile. Harry and the kids and the babies it's just all too much right now. I feel like I'm losing my mind and my hormones are all over the place and it's just so overwhelming and all Harry and I do is fight and I..." you said as you began to hyperventilate.

"(Y/n), I need you to breathe sweetheart, Okay? Stress isn't good for the babies and you already had that scare a couple of weeks back. Breathe love. Pregnancy can very hard and i know these twins haven't made it easy. Do you want me to yell at Harry for you?" she asked softly.

"No, no, it's okay. I just... I need to go somewhere for a couple of days. Just to get myself together before I say something or do something that I..." you started but you couldn't think straight.

"Okay love, that's okay. Everyone needs a little break every once in a while. Why don't you pack some clothes and your pregnancy pillow and come spend a couple of days here in Cheshire with me? I'll call Harry right now to tell him and he can stay and watch the kids for a bit. Why don't you call Gary and ask if he can drive you?" Anne asked.

"Yes, that sounds good" you mumbled as you began looking for your pillow.

"Ok, my love. I'll call Harry and tell him what's going on so he doesn't worry. You just message Gary, ok?"

"Yes, thank you, Anne. See you soon," you replied as Anne said her goodbyes.

After hanging up on Anne you texted Gary to ask if he could pick you up and drive you to Anne's. He agreed and told you he would be there in 15 minutes, giving you enough time to finish packing and say goodbye to your babies.

You were mid-way through packing your toiletries when you heard Harry's footsteps running up the stairs. He walked past your room and towards Connor's before making his way back to you.

"Mom just called me" he spoke softly as he approached you.

"Yes. Gary will be here soon to drive me up to her house" you replied as you placed your toothbrush in your bag and zipped it close.

"I'm glad he's driving you up... (Y/n) what's... what's going on baby. I need to know what's going through your head right now" he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your body tightly.

"My hormones have been all over the place and then I think the scare a couple of weeks ago has made me even more anxious because I don't want anything to happen to our babies and... I can't sleep well at night and I just..." you stammered as you forced yourself to take deep breaths while Harry rubbed circles into your lower back.

"Shhh, love... I know. I think staying with Mum for a couple of days will be good for you, give you some time to relax. I'll make sure the kids are okay and you just message me when you're ready to come back. I'll be just a call away if you need anything" He replied back as he continued to hug you tightly.

"You're not mad at me?" you asked as you looked him in the eye for the first time since your breakdown in the kitchen.

"Of course not, love. I know this pregnancy has been hell for you and I haven't been the best support these past couple of days so I think it will be good for you to have some time to yourself. I'll make sure the kids are ok and if I need I'll call up Gemma. Now, come on, Gary's waiting outside for you. I'll bring your bag and your pillow while you say goodbye to Connor and Becca" he stated as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before grabbing your bags and heading down the stairs.

Carefully you slipped on your Dr.Scholls flip flops and made your way to Connor's room to say goodbye. Connor was playing with his blocks on the floor happily as you quietly called out his name as you went to take a seat on the rocking chair in his room. Connor stared up at you with a smile and ran over to hug you.

"Mama look blocks," he said excitedly as he pointed at the tower he had abandoned.

"Yes, baby it's a beautiful tower. Listen, love, mommy has to tell you something, ok? I want you to listen to mommy, ok? Can you listen to mommy?" you asked your little boy as he shook his head vigorously.

"Mommy's going to go spend a couple of days with Grandma Anne while you and Becca stay with daddy. You guys are going to have so much fun together! You're going to play lots of games together and maybe in a couple of days, you can come to visit." You spoke as the little boy frowned.

"I no go grandmas?" He asked quietly as he frowned.

"No baby, not yet. You have to stay and help daddy with Becca. Can you do that for me?" you explained to Connor as he nodded his head and hugged you tighter.

"Thank you, Connor. You're getting to be such a big boy. Thank you for watching your sister for me. Why don't you come with me so I can say bye to Becca and we can meet daddy downstairs" you mumbled as you stood up while taking your son's hand and slowly made your way to Becca's room.

Becca was peacefully sleeping in her crib when you walked in. You didn't want to wake her up and make Harry's day more difficult than it already was so you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and made your way downstairs. Harry was at the door talking with Gary, most likely giving him instructions on getting me safe to Anne's. Harry saw you from the corner of his eye and quickly came to help you down the last few steps. Once you had made it to the bottom, Harry went to grab a lunchbox from the kitchen and passed it to you.

"Packed you a couple of snacks and a sandwich for the road and some of those weird gummies you've been craving," he stated, a small smile on his face as he crouched down to pick up your two-year-old in his arms.

"Say bye-bye to mamma, Connor. We'll see her in a couple of days." Harry mumbled to the little boy that pouted as he waved his little hand goodbye.

"Bye mama" Connor whispered as you kissed his forehead. You smiled with watery eyes as you said goodbye to your little boy before looking at Harry.

"I love you (y/n)" He told you as you whispered a soft 'I love you" back. You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before walking outside to meet Gary.

You greeted Gary and got into the back seat of the black suburban that would be driving you to Anne's. By the time you rounded the end of your street you were fast asleep.

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Harry's POV:

I was officially going to lose it. I had been close over the years, but if either one of my kids cries one more time today I was going to have a mental breakdown. It had been four days since (Y/n) had gone to my mum's house and I had been left to watch the kids by myself. If there's anything I've learned from the last couple of days it's that my wife is fucking Wonder woman. I don't know how she managed to keep it together for so long because I was falling apart at the seams already.

It's not like I hadn't taken care of the two of them by myself before. I had numerous times when (Y/n) had worked late shifts at the hospital or had taken a weekend trip with her friends but for some reason, these past couple of days have been far worse than any of the previous ones. Becca had made it her absolute mission to try and run herself into every corner she could. So far she had managed to fall at least four times, all ending with a minimum three-hour cry afterward. Connor tried to help calm down Becca but most of the time he would just get upset because she was and they both end up crying. Yesterday had been the breakpoint for me though.

I had managed to keep Becca and Connor from crying all afternoon which was quite a miracle and just as I was putting them to bed, Becca saw a picture of (Y/n) in the hallway and began to scream for (y/n). This consequently woke Connor up who also cried because he could go to sleep so the three of us ended up in (y/n) and I's bed cuddled in the sheets as both of my kids cried through the night. The only person I knew that could fix this situation besides (Y/n) was Gemma and after practically begging her and promising to not be a dick when she came she said yes to helping me out.

After giving up on trying to get the kids out of their pajamas, I grabbed them both in my arms and walked them downstairs to start on some breakfast. They seemed to have tired themselves out with all of their crying so for the time being, they sat down quietly in their respective chairs and munched on their cheerios. I had just finished up making some Oatmeal when the doorbell rang, signaling that Gemma had arrived.

"Mama" Connor mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"No baby not mama yet, but aunty Gemma came to visit. Should we go open the door?" I asked as he nodded excitedly.

I grabbed Becca out of her high chair and held Connor's hand as we made our way to the door. As soon as I opened it Connor sprinted into Gemma's arms in a fit of giggles. It was nice to hear him laugh after all the crying that had been going on these past couple of days. I gave Gemma a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her in and walking back into the kitchen.

"Looking a little rough there Har. When's the last time you shaved those whiskers on your lip" Gemma laughed as she grabbed Becca from my arms and held her.

"Shut it. I haven't slept in days. Feel like I'm losing my mind" I mumbled as I poured the oatmeal into two bowls.

"You want anything to eat? Can make some toast and scrambled eggs" I asked as Gemma shook her head.

"Mama mama" Becca mumbled as she clawed at Gemma's shirt.

"I might have boobs like mama but mine, unfortunately, can't give you what you want little one" Gemma replied back as I laughed.

"Lot's of missing mama this week from all of us. Have you gotten a chance to check in with mom yet? See how (y/n)'s doing? Didn't want to be annoying so I haven't called since the first day" I stated as I placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Connor and gave the other to Gemma to start feeding Becca.

"Mom said she's been okay. I think the fresh air is helping but her hormones are still all over. Mom said she was feeling a bit insecure about her size the other day but was starting to get better about it." Gemma replied as she fed Becca a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Insecure? She's pregnant. I think she's glowing. Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant lady" I said with a frown think about (Y/n).

"I know but Tracey always says that being the pregnant one is different. It feels like everyone's always watching you and now that she has twins she feels even bigger. One baby is bad enough but two of them with your big head inside at once can't be at all comfortable" Gemma said.

"I know but she's big because she has two of my babies and I think she looks breathtaking."

"Did you tell her that recently?" Gemma asked.

"Well... no ... maybe I- I think so" I mumbled as Gemma glared at me.

"I know I know I should have told her more often but I got busy and then Jeff kept calling and she'd kick me out of bed and-"

"Harry everything you just said is why (Y/n) needed a break. You hadn't been paying attention to her at all or the kids because you were so caught up in work. Now that you've realized that as a parent of two and two on the way you need to step it up because your wife can't do it by herself. You can't overwhelm yourself with work especially with the scare (Y/n) had a couple of weeks back."

"I know I know, but I don't know how to help her if she pushes me away" I replied back in frustration.

"Why don't you start by calling Jeff and canceling all those recording sessions you have planned. I know your job and your music is important but you need to put your family first and the health of your wife and your babies" Gemma stated as she wiped some oatmeal off of Becca's cheek.

"I already did! Once (Y/n) left I canceled all of the sessions and interviews and meetings that I couldn't do from home. Told Jeff that after this week I was officially going on a break until after the twins are born and we're all settled." I replied as I passed Connor a napkin for his sticky hands.

"Well did you tell (Y/n) or mom any of this cause (Y/n) is so stressed you'll miss the birth of the babies cause of your work!" Gemma said sternly as she looked at me.

"Bu-but why would she think I'd miss it! Haven't missed any of the births or her appointments?" I groaned.

"I think she's just scared. You were out of town when the bleeding started and she was an absolute wreck when I took her to the hospital. Doctors said they had to give her a sedative because she nearly had a panic attack in the ER and her blood pressure skyrocketed. Mom said she was panicking on the phone when she called her" Gemma replied as she bounced Becca up and down on her lap.

"Careful, she'll vomit. God, I wish I could just see (Y/n) but I don't want to make things worse"

"I think both of you suffered enough with this time apart so why don't you call mom and tell her you and these little rascals are coming up today. Once you called me I texted mom to let her know you'd probably make an appearance today" Gemma replied as she tickled Becca's tummy.

"You're right, I should. I'm going to call mom and let her know. Can you pack Becca a bag and maybe change her diaper?" I asked as I made my way to go find my phone upstairs.

"Bag, yes. Diaper, hell no" Gemma mumbled as I laughed.

-------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) POV:

Today was a good day. You had managed to make it the entire morning without crying which is more than you can say for the other three days you had spent at Anne's house. It looked like you had finally managed to get your hormones under control and were even excited to spend the day in town with Anne. You had promised her that after moping around her house since you got there that you would spend today with her in town as long as you could stop to get one of those chocolate croissants Harry always brought from the bakery.

You waddled down the stairs in the navy blue Gucci dress Harry bought you for Christmas that cinched just above your belly, making you look all the more pregnant. You didn't necessarily like it the first couple of times you tried it on but every time you wore it Harry's face would light up with a smile and that was enough for you to wear it a bit more often.

"Good morning (Y/n), how did you sleep last night? Did the ice pack behind your neck help with the hot flashes?" Anne asked as she sipped her cup of coffee at the kitchen table.

"It was a miracle worker, first time in months that I haven't woken up in a puddle of my own sweat" you replied back as you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and sat down next to her.

"I'm glad. I know you're not a tea drinker but can I get you some decaf or maybe some hot chocolate? I think I have some from the last time you guys were over" Anne replied as she got up to get her a mug.

"Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. I can make it though don't worry" you said as Anne waved you away and began taking out the chocolate mix.

"So how are you feeling today? Better with the hormones and such?" Anne asked cautiously as she stirred the hot chocolate and placed it in front of you.

"I've gotten them under control for the most time, I usually only feel like crying when I to miss Harry and my other babies. Wish they could have come up for a bit but it's been nice to spend some time with you and away from the chaos."

"It's been very nice having you here and I can't wait to meet two more of my grandbabies. Speaking of Harry, he called me this morning?" Anne mumbled into her coffee.

"Is he ok? Are my babies ok? Is someone hurt?" You questioned with a jump.

"Everyone's fine don't worry. Just wanted to see how you were doing." Anne replied. You relaxed back into your seat knowing that everyone was ok at home.

"Thank god. I was worried about leaving them with Harry. He's a great dad, but they can be a handful especially if they tag team you with the crying. It's enough to pull your hair out" you mumble as Anne laughs.

"I can only imagine. Gemma was pretty calm as a child, but Harry was my little attention seeker, couldn't put him down without the tears starting"

"Becca's the same way. If you leave her alone more than a quick bathroom break she'll start screaming her head off. I miss them..." you stated as you grabbed a biscuit and shoved it in your mouth.

"Well a little birdy might have mentioned that someone special could be coming up later today" Anne mumbled trying to hide her grin behind her mug.

"What? What do you mean? Is Harry coming up here?!" You asked excitedly as you nearly drop your coffee mug on the floor.

Anne nodded as you crushed her into bear hug and placed a kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you thank you" you whispered as you held her tight.

"It was all Gemma, dear. And besides, I think you both could really use it. From what I hear my grandkids aren't making it the easiest time. They should be here within the next half hour so why don't you go get dressed and I'll get the kids room all set up for them?" Anne replied as she carefully helped you stand and walked you up the stairs.

Once upstairs, you could help but let out a small squeal at the idea of finally seeing Harry and your kids again. It had only been a couple of days and even though you always love spending some girl time alone with Anne, it was time to see all of your babies (Harry included). You decided to take a quick shower before throwing on a coral pink wrap dress that cut off just above the knee. Just as you were putting on your sneakers (probably the most comfortable shoes you own tbh) Anne knocked on the door to tell you that Harry's car had just pulled into the drive way. You smiled and quickly finished tying your shoes before carefully, but quickly, made your way down the stairs and to the front door.

The sight in front of you was almost too much for you to handle. Connor stood at the side of the car staring at the birds playing the bird feeder. His foot pajamas were covered in what you could only assume was banana stains and the shoe laces on his Gucci sneakers were untied. Your husband stood with his back to you as he wrestled with the fussy one year old in the car street. His pajama pants were riding low on his hips and the white cotton t shirt he sometimes wears to bed had a large stain on his right shoulder, most likely from burping Becca. Just as you were about to approach your little family when suddenly you son came running towards you.

"Mama mama... I here" Connor called out as he hurled himself towards you.

"I see that baby! How are you? Were you good for dada?" You asked him as you carefully lifted him up in your arms and nodded his head.

"I good mama. I good" he stated enthusiastically as you placed a kiss to his cheek.

"How is my favorite grandbaby boy doing? Come with me so your mommy can go help daddy with Becca" Anne stated as Connor all but launched himself at his grandma with a squeal.

You gave Anne a smile before walking over to Harry. You tapped on his shoulder and watched as his shoulders relaxed and he carefully turned around to see you. The weeks could be seen right on his face. His hair was shooting out every which way, a curl follow over his eyes every now and then. There was also a slight hint of stubble across his chin which you knew only appeared after he had gone a couple of days without shaving. The stain on the shoulder of his pajama shirt wasn't the only one on his shirt as you saw a couple splatters of green which you could only assume was peas. He was mess all over, but he was your mess. He gave you the soft smile that you fell in love with all those years ago and you practically tumbled into his arms.

"Hello my love" he mumbled into your hair as he brushed a strand of it behind your ear while rubbing his other hand up and down your back.

"Hi H" you whispered as tears began to prick your eyes.

"I missed you so much, the kids and I were a mess without you but I hope you got to relax a bit" Harry whispered into your ear.

"It was nice, but I missed you all a lot. I hope they weren't to much trouble" you mumbled into his neck.

"Let's just say it's a miracle we didn't get a noise complaint from all of the crying but we survived... barely." Harry replied as you laughed.

The two of you stood there for a bit before you began to hear your daughter's soft whines coming from the open car door. You carefully detached yourself from Harry and made your way to your daughter who sat in her car seat, eyes wide looking at the two of you.

"Hello baby. How is my precious girl doing? Did you make daddy's life difficult?" you mumbled in a baby voice as you picked her up from her car seat and cradled her into your neck.

She let out a soft whine before snuggling into your chest and closing her eyes again.

"All she needed was her mama" Harry replied as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed a kiss to your temple.

"All I needed was you" you whispered back as you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you (Y/n)"

"I love you too, H"

481 notes · View notes

teamhappyme · 3 years

Text

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.”

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.”

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go.

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse.

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder.

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.”

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia.

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow.

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow.

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed.

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life.

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready.

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family.

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day.

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again.

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head.

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article.

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend.

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him.

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face.

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake.

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow.

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby.

“JJ, you could have told me.”

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway.

“Night Spencer.”

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room.

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key.

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest.

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills.

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him.

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix.

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in.

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi.

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him.

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?”

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high.

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.”

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered.

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject.

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head.

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one.

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend.

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.”

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,”

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.”

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men.

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.”

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them.

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility.

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal.

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance.

That was two weeks ago.

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before.

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU.

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval.

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.”

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all.

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked.

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau.

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out.

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in.

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells.

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.”

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead.

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat.

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood.

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest.

“We cannot show him these.”

He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims.

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong.

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face.

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.”

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?”

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.”

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.”

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?”

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

“Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role.

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance.

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though.

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did.

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.”

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office.

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest.

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense.

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on.

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave.

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake.

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.”

God, could he read you.

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.”

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two.

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,”

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof.

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.”

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face.

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

“We shouldn’t go in,” Jon tells his giggling partners very firmly, but they pay him no mind, and he gets dragged by the hand into the storefront.

The girl working the front desk looks up with a vaguely alarmed look on her face, probably because Gerry and Martin look drunk, despite it being 11 A.M. on a Sunday. They are not, although Jon can understand why someone would think that, as they march right up to the desk, faces flushed, still laughing boisterously.

“Is Melanie in? She’s a good mate of mine.” Gerry tells the receptionist.

“Yes, I’ll check with her if she has a second for you.” And she scuttles off to the back.

“It’s Gerry!” He calls off behind her, before turning to grin at Jon. “Don’t hover in the doorway, babe, Melanie doesn’t bite.”

“Melanie is in fact, perfectly capable of biting,” Jon mutters petulantly, as he moves further into the room to eye the art on the walls. “Especially when you used to date her girlfriend.”

“Oh look, my favorite emo goth boy!” Melanie yells, exploding out the back of the store, all 5 feet of her filled with frenzied energy. Her face immediately sours when she catches sight of Jon, hiding behind Martin. “And my least favourite douche bag.”

“Now, now firecracker, be nice to my boyfriend.” Gerry pulls her into a hug, which leads to a headlock and a swift jab to his ribs.

“I’m very happy to be nice to Martin,” She responds sweetly, blowing him a kiss. “What brings you lot over to darken my doorstep?”

“Piercings,” Gerry tells her with an unnatural amount of glee.

“Jon agreed to let me pierce him?” Melanie asks, perking right up at the idea of causing Jon pain.

“No!” Jon exclaims.

At the same time, Gerry says, “Nah, he’s not interested, but Martin and I were wanting something each.”

“Martin?” Melanie asks dubiously, eyeing up sweet-looking, pink-haired, cardigan-clad Martin.

“Yes,” Martin confirms with false solemnity. “Boyfriends who bleed together stay together.”

“You know,” Melanie remarks, grinning at them, “I have heard about that Pagan ritual.”

Jon has slunk over to a wall of healed artwork and concept designs, managing to avoid Melanie's barbs. As far as he is concerned, the art isn’t as interesting as Gerry’s work. Although, he supposes that what you can make beautiful on a canvas is very different from what you can make beautiful on someone's skin.

“I’ve got a bit of an opening now, what do you want to get?” She asks Gerry.

“Well, you know I’ve been wanting to have my nipples done.” He offers, teal eyes looking slightly wild.

“Yeah?” She grins in triumph, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Yup and Martin has been considering something for his ears.”

“Hmmm,” She wanders over to Martin to examine him. “Open for suggestions?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re a good shape. Double helix?” She looks to Gerry for affirmation.

“Definitely.” He smirks, eyes lighting up with satisfaction.

"Two?" Martin looks slightly dubious.

"If you do them together, the pain is only a tiny bit more, and the healing time is two-for-one," Melanie reassures him, and Jon thinks it's the nicest she's ever sounded. "It's up to you though, of course."

Jon steals himself to brave the fray, going over to take Martin's hand. It's slightly clammy with the nerves that Gerry's enthusiasm has prevented up until this point.

"It won't be so bad, love." He presses a kiss to Martin's cheek, offering his support. "Just a small jab, then it's done."

"Let's do it."

***

There's a brief fuss with consent forms, aftercare instructions, and payment.

"I don't know what you lot," Melanie instructs Gerry firmly, gesturing between them, "get up to in the bedroom, but no twisting, no pulling, no biting, no sucking your nipples for 12 weeks."

Jon blushes, but Gerry and Martin aren't bothered. "Yeah, firecracker, I know the drill. This isn't my first circus."

"Kinky little shit," Jon mutters under his breath, but the goth only winks at him.

Martin's care instructions are less suggestive, and Gerry and Jon both promise to help him with it.

“Martin should go first,” Melanie pronounces, patting the piercing chair as she disinfects her hands and gloves up.

“Me?” Martin asks.

“Yup, yours will be a lot simpler, and I don’t want to traumatise you by making you watch nipple piercings before your turn.”

Martin climbs on the chair, looking a little pale, but resolute. Jon stands on the side not occupied by Melanie, gripping his hand reassuringly. Gerry stands slightly behind the chair, hand on Martin's shoulder.

The ear piercings are almost comically quick and easy. Two quick pinches, less painful than bee stings, and then Martin's ear is pierced and adorned with small hoops.

He sighs with relief and oh's with delight when Gerry hands him a mirror to check them out.

"I love it!" He exclaims, beaming at Jon and Gerry. They smile back at him, each taking a turn to kiss him on the cheek or forehead, their own relief palpable.

"It's just you and me now," Melanie grins at Gerry and gestures for him to strip.

He shucks off his trench coat and black t-shirt, and stands in front of her, completely at ease.

Jon takes a moment to wonder if he has managed to get himself into a relationship with a masochist. Not because of the piercings, but because Gerry seems to genuinely enjoy being friends with Melanie.

The nipple piercings seem to be a much more complicated process, with markings and adjustments, but several rounds of cleaning and disinfecting later, Melanie runs a metal piercing bar through first one nipple and then the other. Gerry hisses with discomfort but stands carefully steady.

She steps back to make sure they look straight and even, before declaring it a success.

"Nice," Gerry says succinctly, looking in the large upright mirror, nodding his head enthusiastically. He and Melanie high five, and she condescends to grip him in a firm hug from the side.

"You sure I can't tempt you, Jon?" Melanie asks him sweetly as she starts to clean up her station, Gerry putting his clothes back on close by.

Knowing she just wants to cause him pain, Jon tells her firmly, "No, thank you."

He is over by the wall again, looking at different art this time, including a picture of a tattoo that catches his focus. It's a playing card amid a complex arm sleeve, an Ace of diamonds, and despite a lifelong disinterest in tattoos, it speaks to him.

"I think you'd look better with a spade, love.” Gerry manages to startle Jon slightly, appearing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Jon marvels at his apparent ability to read his mind.

“You think so?” Jon queries, softly. Gerry hums his affirmation. “It's a bit much though, don't you think?”

"You don't need the whole card, for what you want. Just the A and the spade. Small and bold." He picks up Jon's hand, indicating the spot below his thumb on his wrist.

Gently releasing it, Gerry grabs a pen and scrap of paper and rapidly draws out a solid, simple design.

Jon glances over at Melanie, extremely dubious. "Maybe we can go somewhere else to get it?" He whispers.

Gerry laughs warmly, tapping the small piece of paper. "I could do it for you myself."

Jon blinks at him, rather owlishly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can give you the tattoo. I'm probably a bit rusty, but I did survive a full tattoo apprenticeship. I’ve done about a million over the years, although I had to give up my machine when I moved to London."

"You did a tattoo apprenticeship?" Martin asks from nearby, tone skeptical.

"Yup, when I was living in Edinburgh. All three years." Gerry tells them casually. "That's where I met Melanie, actually."

Jon and Martin exchange a baffled look, but choose to simply file it under 'Things Gerry tells us out of order.'

“Well, if you can do it...” Jon sounds a bit floaty but he is staring at the design yearningly, which Gerry knows is a good sign.

"Firecracker," Gerry yells over to Melanie, "Can I borrow your machine?"

***

Melanie makes the stencil while Gerry reacquaints himself with the tattoo gun, setting everything up and getting used to the weight of it in his hand again. The rhythm is always the same with tattooing and he feels himself fall into the past a bit.

When everything is ready, he gestures Jon over to sit in the chair, smiling beatifically.

Jon is shaking a little as he slides up onto it, and Gerry presses a reassuring kiss to his hand before he starts the prep.

"You ready?"

Jon gulps. "Yes."

Martin comes over to take Jon's other hand and Melanie hovers nearby, wanting to watch Gerry like a hawk the entire time he's handling her machine. ("It's the true love of her life," Gerry had confessed to Martin earlier. "Don't tell Georgie.")

Gerry follows the same procedure with any tattoo: cleanse, shave, cleanse again. Numbing cream, in this case, to prevent nerve twitches, then alcohol rub down. Eventually, he applies the stencil carefully, making sure to get it straight and in the correct place.

He checks with Jon, making sure that it is where he wants it. Jon confirms, smiling to see the design on his skin for the very first time.

As the buzz of the machine fills the space, Jon and Gerry make eye contact for a moment. Jon's earthy green eyes are wide, and Gerry can almost see where his pulse pounds through his jaguar vein. He stills a moment, really checking Jon's energy.

He's nervous, it's obvious to see, but Gerry can also see the real desire in him, and with a wink, turns to look down at his new canvas. He sets to work, the buzzing of the needle filling the air.

***

"I love it," Jon whispers to Gerry later, lying in the circle of his arms, Martin's warm weight at his back.

"I love it too." Gerry kisses his forehead sweetly, almost asleep. "Martin, what do you think of your ear?"

"I think boyfriends who commit to pain together stay together," Martin mutters drowsily, repeating his sentiment from earlier.

"Ah, yes," Jon mutters, "The great cosmic bond of suffering."

They laugh easily, the hot excitement of the day echoing within them, yet another thread in the colourful tapestry of their relationship.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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stansrichie · 5 years

Text

how do you sleep when you lie to me?

summary: reddie soulmate au where when you write on your skin, it’ll show up on your soulmates skin as well so eddie started wearing long sleeves… until one day, he doesn’t.

read it on ao3 here! :]

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 3.3k

warnings: eddie is big dumb, mild angst, mainly pining/fluff, college au, soulmate au, they’re like 19

a/n: i haven’t written in a while so PLEASE bear with me i tried- i also didn’t prooread this yet so ignore typos its 5am :[

Eddie had just drifted to sleep when he felt a faint tingle on his arm; his soulmate writing something.

Sitting up in bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned his head to look at the clock on his desk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters frustratedly to himself, flopping back down on his bed and curling further into his comforter, trying to be as quiet as he can since Stan was sleeping less than 5 feet away from him in their shared college dorm. “Why the hell is he up at 4 a.m. when we have class in the morning?”

Eddie had always been a light sleeper, so it was at times like this when he was awoken at the ass-crack of dawn, watching silently as Richie wrote on his arm, waiting and hoping for a response; a response Eddie was, quite frankly, too afraid to give him.

It had only been a few days after he turned 18, the age where you can finally start seeing and writing messages on your skin to your soulmate, that Eddie figured out Richie was his soulmate.

It was their senior year of high school and they were sitting in English class, zoning out while as the teacher continued rambling about some summer reading project they were supposed to have done, when Eddie felt it. He was wearing a sweatshirt, so he lifted the sleeve a little, watching as his soulmate started doodling what looked like an intricate rose.

He smiled as he watched for a few minutes, thinking the flower was beautiful, and moved to tap Richie on the arm to show him the design but paused as soon as he started. His breath hitched as he looked over his shoulder and saw Richie drawing a rose on his arm. The exact same rose that was currently being drawn on Eddie’s.

Up until that point, Eddie had never written a message back to his soulmate, afraid of saying something stupid, and after figuring out it was Richie, he knew he could never write anything back at all. At least not until he figured out what the hell he could say to him because, in reality, what was he supposed to say to his best friend that has shown no romantic interest in him before? ‘Hey, Richie, it’s me, Eddie. I know you’ve said a thousand times that being around me makes you nauseous because I constantly smell like my mom’s cheap perfume, but maybe that’s karma because we’re kinda soulmates. Life comes at you fast, huh?” Absolutely not.

Not only could Eddie not convince himself to tell Richie, but neither could the rest of the Losers. Not Bill, who sat Eddie down and held an impromptu intervention with Mike after Richie had come to them a hundred times, crying about how his soulmate probably hates him already since they never respond to him. Not Stan, who nearly decked him in the face for running away when he was given the perfect opportunity to fess up when Richie asked him why he had drawn the exact same smiley face he had on his hand. And not Beverly or Ben, who cornered and sat him down just last week after his last lecture of the day, telling him it had been almost a year since he found out and had yet to talk to Richie.

Now here he was, lying in bed at 4 in the morning, curling tightly into his comforter as he tried to ignore the guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach and watching Richie write what was probably the fourth message he had gotten today.

I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying you for the past year. Part of me hopes I’ve been writing on the wrong arm this whole time and you’re just not right-handed, but I know that isn’t really it. Just please say something, anything, so I at least know you’re out there and I’ll stop. I promise.

More than half of his forearm had been covered. He could only read over the message once, feeling tears well up in his eyes before shoving his arm back under his blanket and shutting his eyes as tightly as he could. He hated that he was hurting him, but he was scared. He was so scared. Scared that Richie would hate him by now. Scared that Richie didn’t return the same feelings for him that he’s had since freshman year. Scared that this will ruin their friendship if Richie doesn’t. He’s so scared.

“Eddie, it’s the middle of September. It’s like 600 degrees outside. Why the fuck are you wearing a jacket?” Richie asks, furrowing his eyes brows and staring at the smaller boy in front of him, his head slightly tilted as he waited for an answer.

After locking the door to his and Stan’s dorm, Eddie pushes past Richie, nearly knocking the boy over, and throws his backpack over his shoulder as he leads them down the hall and out of the building. This is what they always did. Richie woke up early, got dressed, walked to Eddie’s room, and waited for him outside so they could walk to class together. That’s what best friends do, right? “Because I’m cold, Richie, why else would I wear a jacket, dumbass?” he retorted, tugging the jacket tighter over his body. Ever since Eddie started wearing long sleeves around him, Richie asked the same thing all the time, and got the same response every time. Only this time, it really did feel like it was about 600 degrees outside, and Eddie could already feel his forehead start to get damp as they walked, yet he had no intentions of removing the jacket.

“Whatever, weird ass. I feel like I’m fucking melting out here, and you’re still dressing like there’s a blizzard barreling down on us. Are you okay?” Richie asked, his previously sarcastic tone of voice turning to one of genuine concern, catching Eddie completely off-guard with how fast he switched up.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. Just been feeling weird. I’m fine, though,” Eddie tumbled over his words, keeping his eyes on his feet as they walked. “I didn’t get to ask you earlier, but how was the trip?” he asked, peering up to meet the same pair of concerned eyes he had been avoiding the entire walk. Over the weekend, Richie was forced to go to some art museum two hours away with his class for an exhibit, and instead of making it a day trip, they left Saturday morning and didn’t return until Sunday afternoon.

Richie knew good and well that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling him, but they were best friends. He told Eddie everything and Eddie told him everything too. If he wanted him to know, he would tell him. Why would this be any different? “It was alright. Kind of boring, but it was required. I know it was only one weekend, but I missed you,” Richie replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized what he’d said, and frantically tried to backtrack and save himself. “You guys. I-i missed you guys. You know… it was weird not hanging out with you all. Like... all of you. Not just one,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck, and Eddie noticed a faint red tint had taken to his cheeks that couldn’t have been from the heat.

“Yeah…y-yeah. I got it,” Eddie stuttered back, feeling like the combined heat the jacket and the heat from his own cheeks were about to suffocate him. “I bet it was. Didn’t have anyone to fuck around with and call ‘itty bitty Ewok” the whole time you were there.”

This pulled a loud laugh from Richie, who completely stopped in his tracks to grab his chest dramatically at the nickname he had coined for Eddie. “Come on, Eds, if anything you missed me calling you that,” he replied in-between chuckles, wiping a single tear from his eye.

“Fuck you, Richie, you already know I’m insecure about my height and Ewoks are actually pretty badass. They could kick your ass in a heartbeat just like I ca-” Eddie stops himself, sighing and shaking his head as Richie had only been probed to laugh harder. “Fuck you,” he spat, squinting his eyes at the other boy before speed walking ahead. However, he didn’t get very far before he felt himself being tugged backwards into a hard chest.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I was just kidding, I promise,” Richie grinned down at him, though Eddie wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. What he was paying attention to, though, was the hand on his waist that was pressing him firmly against Richie’s body, only separated by his backpack. “Forgive me?” Richie whispered, leaning right down to Eddie’s ear and making him shudder a bit at the feeling of his breath fanning his skin.

“Whatever,” Eddie breathed out, shoving Richie away and fixing his bag on his shoulder, continuing to walk ahead as he heard Richie continuing to chuckle behind him.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, getting closer and closer to their classroom building before they finally arrived. It wasn’t until Eddie pulled the door open and held it for Richie that he spoke again.

“Is that something your soulmate wrote?” Richie asked, pointing to the marks peeking out from Eddie’s jacket that had slightly risen up on his arm as they walked inside.

At the question, Eddie’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled the fabric of his sleeve down, averting his eyes from his best friend. “Yeah… yeah, it’s nothing important. Just a doodle or something,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and silently praying that Richie would accept his answer and change the subject.

“Must be nice. I don’t know what I did to my soulmate or--or if I even fucking have one at this point, but I can never get a response. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just…give up? I mean it’s almost been a year now and all I’ve gotten is radio silence. I can’t keep begging for nothing, you know?” Richie asks, looking over at Eddie with dark, heavy eyes as he finished. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and his head hung a little lower as he walked.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry, Richie. You don’t deserve that… you really don’t,” Eddie replied, fidgeting nervously with backpack straps and quickly glancing at Richie before focusing back on the ground and walking into the classroom.

He hadn’t been lying. After a while, the messages on Eddie’s arm started coming in slower and slower before stopping altogether.

There were times when he thought Richie had started trying again, feeling the familiar tingle on his arm, only to look down and see a grocery list or a homework reminder.

By now, it had been nearly two months and there hadn’t been a single message from Richie for him to read. Richie had also become a little quieter when they all hung out. Acting a little out of character for his usual self, and the entire group noticed. They also knew Eddie was the one that could fix it, and they’d threatened him at least 3 times this week to tell Richie before they did. To say he felt guilty was an understatement. He didn’t think it would come to Richie completely giving up he just¾he just needed more time, was all. More time to come up with something to say to him.

Eddie was just about to sit down and start on his homework when he felt it again. Writing on his arm.

Study group for comp sci in library @ 6

He stared at the note on his arm for a few minutes before looking at the time on his laptop. It was 3:45 now, so he only had a little bit of time to decide if he would show up or not. This was the first time Richie had written a complete sentence, whether it was for him or not, let alone with something as specific as his afternoon plans. It would be the perfect time to reveal himself to Richie, but he couldn’t help but doubt himself. “Jesus fuck, I’m gonna need a Xanax after this,” he muttered to himself hiding his face in his hands and exhaling loudly.

It was currently 7:30pm and Eddie was standing outside of the library entrance, looking like an absolute idiot. He had gotten to the library over 30 minutes ago, but every time he made the move to walk inside, he walked right back out.

He peered through the glass doors of the library entrance and saw Richie packing up his bags at a table in the back corner of the bottom floor and waving goodbye to a few other students. Panic started to rise in him because it was literally now or never, and he didn’t even use his time standing around outside, let alone the entire year he’s kept this secret, to think of what the hell he’s supposed to say when he walks up to him.

His body starts moving before his mind can get it to stop, and he suddenly finds himself pushing through the front doors and walking right up to Richie, who was seconds away from leaving.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called as he neared the table, internally cringing at how awkward and nervous he sounded. Richie looked up from shoving his last book into his backpack, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening to say something before Eddie cut him off. “H-how did your study group go?”

“How did you know I had a study group? I never mentioned it to…” Richie trailed off mid-sentence as he took in Eddie’s appearance. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A faint blush was set on his cheeks, tinting them a pretty pink color over his freckles, and he was completely avoiding Richie’s eyes. Other than that, there was nothing significantly different about Eddie that caught him off guard; that is, until he noticed Eddie’s shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing anything long-sleeved, and Richie noticed a few familiar scribbles on Eddie’s arm from afar.

Stepping away from the table, Richie started moving closer to the other boy and Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stood completely still, frozen in place, as Richie stopped right in front of him and took his arm in his hand, holding it up so he could read what was written.

“Study group for comp sci in library at 6,” Richie read out loud quietly before looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, causing Eddie to meet his gaze for the first time. They were both silent for no more than 3 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Eddie was still barely breathing, waiting for Richie to react, and Richie was looking at the message on Eddie’s arm again that was identical to his as if everything was hitting him at once.

Eddie had just looked away from Richie’s face when he spoke up again.

“Why?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of hurt and desperation. “W-why would you …hide this from me for so long, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up, he realized just how upset Richie really was. His eyes had already begun to water, and he knew he was completely overwhelmed with the situation. He felt terrible once again; not that he didn’t deserve to. “Richie, I-”

“Do you realize how hard I tried? Eddie, I didn’t even know if there was someone out there or not. I-I waited so long hoping to get a response, and you--you were there the entire time? You knew the entire time?” Richie cut him off, looking like he had been completely defeated.

“I-I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know how you would react. You’ve never shown any real interest in me and I didn’t want to ruin anything I-I was just scared of… of losing you,” he replied, feeling his own tears start to slip down his cheeks. “I know I’m the fucking worst and I had so much time to say something but I couldn’t-”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie? Like are you bullshitting me right now? This entire time, you haven’t stopped to think even once that I might have feelings for you? That I might have been in love with you since we were prepubescent 13 year-olds in high school? Not once?” Richie continued, shooting questions at Eddie every chance he could. “Not when I asked you to prom senior year, even if I did try to play it off as a friend thing? Not when I kissed you that one time when we went to the drive-in? Or not even now when I wake up early every morning to walk you to class, even when I don’t have the same classes? Not once?”

Eddie was speechless. Absolutely speechless for at least 2 minutes before his mind finally started working again after that confession. “I really am sorry, Rich, I know I should’ve said something a long ass time ago I was being stupid… I had no idea you felt that way, but I-I feel the same,” he replied nervously, peering up at Richie through his eyelashes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “And to be fair, you told me the kiss was accidental and that you only did it because you were trying to wipe butter off of my lip and slipped-”

But he’s cut off when he feels a pair of lips against his, and he barely has time to react before Richie’s pulling him closer against his chest and deepening the kiss. Eddie feels like his entire body is fire, and even though they’re kissing in the middle of the library, it feels like they’re the only people in the room, as cheesy as that sounds. It was a fairly chaste kiss, but it was desperate and needy, something they’ve both wanted for years, and they were both breathless when they pulled apart.

Eddie’s lips were red and a bit plumper, and when Richie’s eyes flickered down to them and noticed, he couldn’t help but pull Eddie in for another quick kiss.

“That one wasn’t an accident,” Richie finally spoke after a few moments of them trying to catch their breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie chuckled breathlessly. He felt like a thousand weights had been lifted off his shoulders. His insides felt like jelly, like he couldn’t believe that had just happened, but it felt good. He felt good.

“Yeah? Says the one that kept being my soulmate away from me for an entire fucking year,” Richie countered, squeezing Eddie’s hip and making his breath hitch.

“Not an entire year just…close,” Eddie murmured under his breath, hiding his face in Richie’s neck.

“Too long,” Richie replied, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his lips against the side of Eddie’s face.

“M’sorry,” Eddie responded, which he’d probably said a thousand times tonight. But he meant it. He meant it every single time.

“I know. I’m just glad you’re here now,” Richie sighed in content. Of course, they’d talk more about the situation later, but for now he was just happy he had found out who his soulmate was. Even better, it was Eddie.

Eddie knew it too. Knew he’d have a lot more explaining to do, and a lot more apologizing to do, but for now he wanted to stay just like this for a little while longer because he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have to be; he never had to be, and he wished he could’ve convinced himself of that earlier because being in Richie’s arms felt like the safest place he’d ever been in his life.

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firstdegreefangirl · 4 years

Text

Day Seven: Father’s Day

Word Count: 2000

Original Pub Date: 21 June 2020

Relationships: Eddie Diaz/Evan Buckley

Author’s Note: Seven for seven, and what a week it’s been!

Read on ao3 here

Once more, with feeling, it’s time to tag: @eddiediazweek @thisissirius @hearteyesforbuck @dramamineontopofme @twinien @rebeccaofsbfarm @meloingly

Eddie wakes up to someone pounding on his front door. His first instinct is to defend his household, protect Christopher, but while he’s looking for his pants, his mind catches up to the distinct rhythm of the knock.

Buck.

(The “secret knock” had been Buck’s idea to begin with, a way for Christopher to not be allowed to answer the door to strangers, but still be able to greet Buck at the door. He’d let Chris pick the pattern, a duty he’d taken very seriously for three days before making a decision and spending the better part of a Saturday afternoon teaching Buck exactly how to knock.)

It’s come in handy on more than one occasion, but Eddie usually knows that Buck is coming over, even if he’s not sure when. This morning is a total surprise, but he knows it’s Buck and he doesn’t have to worry. So he lays back down and rolls over to look at his alarm clock.

5:45 a.m.

That’s unusual. The only time Eddie usually hears from Buck this early is if he’s spent the night, lying asleep in Eddie’s bed. He loves seeing Buck like that, spread out and vulnerable, and so, so comfortable in Eddie’s home. Buck had been invited to stay last night, left after the movie was over anyway, claiming an early morning with errands he had to run.

But Eddie’s house isn’t really an “errand,” and even if it were, Buck never arrives this early, so a small knot of worry builds in his stomach.

He briefly considers rolling out of bed anyway, following Christopher down the stairs and looking Buck over. If he’s dropping by this early, there must be a reason, and Eddie can’t think of any that don’t involve something terrible having happened.

But the deal they’d made was that Christopher could open the door, all by himself, to Buck’s knock. Besides, if it were something truly awful, wouldn’t he have called first, texted at least? Or just knocked normally so Chris wouldn’t know it was him?

So he stays where he is, listens carefully for anything worth worrying about, and waits for Buck to come and kiss him good morning.

The door stays closed though, cracked open just far enough that Chris can push it open if he needs something in the middle of the night instead of having to fumble with a doorknob. Eddie admits it; he’s a little disappointed that Buck didn’t even at least come see if he was awake, maybe lay down with him for a few minutes.

Even if he’s held onto the Army instincts that mean he can sleep under almost any conditions, he always sleeps better when Buck is there with him.

He doesn’t have too much time to be bummed out though, because he hears Chris start giggling, Buck’s laughter following right behind. Eddie can’t make out the question Buck asks, but Chris shouts a gleeful response, before repeating himself more quietly.

“Yeah! I mean … yeah.”

Distance muffles the rest of the conversation, but he can hear the refrigerator open and close a few times, and the kind of loud clanging that means Buck is letting Chris help get out the pots and pans.

So they’re cooking something. At 6 o’clock on a Sunday morning, his boyfriend and his newly minted 10-year-old are cooking something, undoubtedly making a tornado-style mess in his kitchen.

(Buck’s kitchen, really, if he’s taking into consideration the number of times he’s been banished to the living room, made to watch from the counter so he doesn’t disturb Buck while he’s working. And Eddie isn’t arguing, Buck looks much more at home in the space than he’s ever felt, so as far as he’s concerned, it’s Buck’s kitchen in his house.

Their house, soon, he hopes, but hasn’t worked up the courage to ask yet.)

A particularly loud crash pulls him out of his own thoughts, and Buck yelps loudly enough that he wonders if he shouldn’t go see what’s going on. Even if he can’t help cook, he can at least offer some emotional support. Besides, there’s nothing he loves more than being around Buck and Chris, just existing in the same room as them. Everything else they do together is just the icing on the cake.

But he wasn’t invited, and he knows that there’s got to be a reason nobody tipped him off. It’s maybe the first time Christopher has kept a secret without Eddie politely pretending he doesn’t know anyway, and he wants to respect the sanctity of that. If it were something he really needed to worry about, he knows Buck would have come to him, would have done whatever he could to look out for Chris.

So whatever’s going on down the hall, it’s none of his business. Not until Buck and Chris are ready for it to be.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to sleep through all the racket, though, so he sighs and pushes himself up to lean against the wall. The lamp brightens the room when he flicks the switch, gives just enough light that he can pick up the paperback book he’d left sitting underneath it. He adjusts the pillow against the small of his back and flips to the page he’d marked with a gas station receipt.

He can’t focus on the words though, try as he might to follow along with the details of Czolgosz’s plan to assassinate President McKinley. It’s not something he knows much about, but the book had caught his eye on Buck’s shelf, so he’d asked to borrow it. It’s fascinating so far, but just isn’t holding his attention today, when instead he could listen to the half-muted noises floating up from the kitchen, the way his house feels full and exuberant and happy.

Even at 6:15 on a Sunday morning.

It doesn’t take long for him to abandon all pretense of reading, to tuck the receipt back into the pages and put the book away. There’s nobody else here; it’s not like he’s going to get called out for the way he’s perfectly happy to listen and smile.

He hears something sizzling in a skillet, and the scent of bacon starts wafting into his room.

Is Buck making breakfast without him? Well maybe he’ll at least have the decency to come find him when the food is ready. In the meantime, Eddie shifts the blankets over his lap, situates himself to be more comfortable while he waits to find out what the big secret is.

Eddie doesn’t fall back asleep, but his mind wanders again. He’s thinking about how perfectly Buck fits into his family, how Christopher is just as comfortable with him as with Eddie, how he couldn’t have imagined a better support system when he moved up from El Paso.

He’s not sure how long he spends zoned out, but the next thing he registers is the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Chris isn’t a particularly stealthy kid, even by 9-year-old standards, so even though Eddie can tell that he’s trying to whisper, his voice carries into the room.

“You’re sure he’s still asleep, Bucky?”

“Pretty sure, kiddo. It’s still early, I’ll bet your dad is fast asleep right now.”

Buck isn’t trying to keep his voice down; if anything, he’s calling out a little louder than usual. Eddie takes it for the hint that it is, dives for the lamp switch and rolls himself back into his blankets. He forces his eyes closed, tries to make sure his breathing is steady and lies perfectly still.

It must be a pretty convincing act, because he hears the door squeak when Buck pushes it open, and Chris’ crutches click-clacking across the floor. There’s a moment of complete silence, and Eddie’s just beginning to wonder if he should open his eyes, when the mattress sags next to him as a heavy weight drops onto the bed.

“Dad! Wake up!” Christopher is crawling across the bedspread, swatting his hands against Eddie’s arms and face. “Dad! Happy Father’s Day!”

Eddie opens his eyes, faking a small yawn as he sits up.

“Whoa, hey, buddy. What’s all this?”

“Bucky came over! We made breakfast!” He points at Buck, who’s standing at the foot of the bed and holding a tray with three plates on it. “Don’t worry,” Christopher continues solemnly. “He used the secret knock to get in.”

“Good.” Eddie nods back, just as seriously. “I’d hate to think what could have happened if you’d opened the door for a stranger. You never know, he might try to … tickle you to death!”

He wiggles his fingers against Christopher’s sides, laughing as he wiggles and writhes, shrieking with delight.

“Daaaaaad! That tickles!”

“I know!” Eddie does it again. “That’s why you can only open the door if we know for sure it’s Buck. Wouldn’t want something like this to happen!” He rolls onto his side, sliding Chris far enough across the bedspread to end the tickle fight. They’re both gasping for breath, everyone smiling and laughing together. “Especially with such a tasty-smelling breakfast to eat. Buck? There’s room for everyone up here.”

He scoots to the middle of the mattress, pats the space he’s just freed up and watches Buck raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know … Chris? You think I can trust him not to tickle the guy holding the food?”

“Yeah, Dad knows not to make spills.” He nods and reaches out toward Buck. “Can I have mine?”

Buck sits down, leaning against the wall and swinging his legs so that he’s pressed against Eddie's side from hip to ankle. He passes the plates around, holds Eddie’s glass of orange juice while he talks to Christopher about everything he’d helped cook. Or, to hear Chris tell it, everything Buck helped him cook.

“It was m-my idea, and I was the main chef! But Bucky helped. He did the sharp knives and-and the hot skillets. He got to be the … the, wh-what was it, Bucky?”

“Sous chef.” Eddie looks over his shoulder at the way Buck is beaming at his son.

“Yeah! He was the shoe chef!” Eddie and Buck both laugh at that, and Eddie ruffles Chris’ hair.

“Well you both did a great job. I’ve just gone one question.”

“What?”

“Are my eyebrows really as big as a piece of bacon? I mean, the rest of this pancake portrait is spot on, but you think I need to do something about those? Is that some sort of a hint?”

Christopher rolls his eyes and grins.

“No, Dad! It’s just bacon! They don’t make it smaller!”

“Hang on, your dad is right. But I think I know how to fix it.” Buck reaches over and snatches one of the slices of bacon, chews halfway down the length and tears it in half with his fingers before rearranging it on the plate. “See? How’s that, Eds? More accurate?”

“Mmm. Pre-bitten bacon, my favorite. How’d you know, Buck?”

“I had a feeling.” Buck picks a strawberry off of his own plate – the nose, if Eddie is seeing things right – and holds it out for him to take gently between his teeth. “C’mon, your eyebrows are going to get cold, and that scrambled-egg scruff on your chin.”

With that, they all dig in, and for a few minutes, the only noises are those of metal cutlery scraping against the ceramic plates.

Then, Buck leans his head over to Eddie’s shoulder, kisses lightly at his jaw. He’s not trying to start anything, just looking for a way to get Eddie’s attention without Chris noticing.

“Hey, happy Father’s Day.” He sits up and smiles when Eddie turns his head to look.

“Thanks.” Eddie looks between Buck and Chris, then down at the plates of food they’d created together, and he knows exactly what he needs to say next.

It’s not something they’ve really talked about, not yet, but Eddie knows it’s true anyway.

“You too, Buck.”

#eddie diaz week #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christoper diaz #buddie #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic #911 fox #911 #9-1-1 fanfic #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fox #kw20 #originalcontentfirstdegreefangirl #katie writes

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onesmallspark · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Dream

Wrote this out of pure boredom and my own quarantine horniness.

2.6k words of fluff and porn. That’s all it is.

Apologies for any typos. LMK if you want to see more interludes from Leah & Steve’s quarantine.

A pandemic-level virus was not something Steve Rogers needed to worry about. The serum removed that threat years ago. However, for Leah, things were not quite the same.

She loved her little D.C. walkup and though she and Steve had only been dating for a little over nine months, they decided to take the plunge and quarantine together. Steve vowed to refrain from work he couldn’t do from her brownstone to cut down on the likelihood of bringing anything home.

Steve was old-fashioned, obviously. But he helped with cooking, cleaning, and maintained some of the things around her home that needed help like a kitchen cabinet not sitting quite right in its hinge.

However, he still turned a little pink when he’d help fold laundry and pull out an especially risqué pair of panties from the hamper. Leah loved it. She, on the other hand, took great pleasure in folding Steve’s underwear, no matter how flustered he’d get seeing the hold a pair of his boxer briefs.

They both spent most of their weekdays working in separate rooms of the house. They outfitted an alcove of Leah’s bedroom to fit Steve’s desk and computers, while she took over the spare bedroom to continue teaching her second-grade class.

Steve relished in the act of bringing up a sandwich to her office for lunch only to hear the group of 18 seven-year-olds dissolve into chatter and giggles.

“Hi, Mr. Steve!” They’d chorus, sometimes tipping off Leah to his location before she noticed him.

“Hi kids!” He’d smile back, showing off those perfectly aligned and whitened teeth. He’d set down the little plate with a turkey and ham sandwich and just the right amount of Doritos chips before announcing - “I think it’s close to lunch time!”

Leah humored him because the kids loved it and she often times needed the reminder.

“Okay everyone, after lunch, we’ll get back together and go over our multiplication tables.” She said sweetly before signing off.

The days went by quickly, and though Leah loved the extra time with her beau, she started noticing the real differences between them and their preferences. Steve could really do with some time to let his hair down.

“Baby?” Leah called from the kitchen one Sunday morning, digging through the fridge.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, walking in to join her. Always so formal. His eyes raked up and down her form - donning a lacy pair of pink panties that were somewhere between a thong and shorts, one of his workout shirts and nothing else but the white nail polish on her toes.

“I can’t find the orange juice - did we get some on our last Instacart order?” She frowned, closing the door.

“Uh,” Steve replied plainly. His brain shorting for two reasons - the swell of her ass from beneath the pink lace to the idea of working the Instacart app. He still wasn’t very mobile-friendly.

“Baby,” she laughed, turning and sliding her hands around his sides to press her face into his chest. “I told you I could do it.” She murmured, hands resting at the top of his jeans.

As previously stated, Steve was old fashioned. He didn’t hang around in comfy clothes. He got up, showered, put on his clothes for the day, changed once a day to go to the gym, showered again, then put street clothes back on. He ate meals at the dining table or breakfast bar, put out his pajamas on the dresser each morning and never skipped his deodorant.

Leah’s goal was to get him to lounge. Embrace athleisure. Maybe even go barefoot.

“I’ll get it this time, I swear,” he blushed as she slid her hands up his back from beneath his navy T-shirt.

“Baby, it’s 10 a.m. on a Sunday,” she pointed out, hands running over the brown leather belt. “Don’t you ever want to just hang out in your jammies?” She asked, looking up at him with her chin balanced right below the line of his pecs.

“I’ll get nothing done if I just hang around in my comfy clothes,” he pointed out, gulping softly as she slid her hands down into the back of his denim pockets.

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” She purred, burying her face in this chest yet again. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make us breakfast, okay?”

“Do you want me to set the table?” He offered, kissing her forehead.

“We’re not eating at the table,” she winked.

Half an hour later, with a glass of milk tucked under her arm for the soldier and two plates of breakfast sausage and french toast, she wandered her way into the family room and set everything down on the coffee table. Steve was perched on the couch reading a book.

“It looks great, Lee,” he complimented, giving her a smile that made heart flutter.

“Thanks baby,” she smiled, straightening up. “Now, stand up,” she insisted. He complied, sticking a crisp $5 bill in his book to keep his spot, setting it on the side table.

She took a long, good look at him before meeting his gaze.

“Now, pants off.” She instructed. He opened his mouth to protest. “I mean it, Rogers. This is a no-pants brunch.” He almost went to argue again, but in the spirit of solidarity, he unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them before draping them over the back of the adjacent lazy chair. “Socks, too.” She added. Again, he complied, tucking them into one another and setting them on top of his jeans. “I want your butt right here, and legs going that way.” She pointed him to sit with his back agains the arm of the chair and legs stretched across the three couch cushions.

Climbing onto the couch, she carefully wedged herself between his thighs, tucking her feet beneath the juncture of the couch cushion and the arm, practically in his lap.

Steve immediately flushed pink at how close her warm center was to his very interested cock, and with just the thin layers of cotton - well, in her case, lace - between them.

“Here baby,” she handed him his plate. They held their plates in their hands, chatting about a few things they wanted to get done around the house that week.

“I went to Bachman’s on Friday and reserved a couple of hanging baskets for the courtyard.” Steve said, “thought you’d like the purple ones.” He spoke of the small 14 x 14 outdoor space off the back of the living room - just enough to fit a few chairs and some string lights.

“Thanks, baby,” Leah smiled. The space was their sanctuary. Outdoor, private and kept them from going to stir crazy during the week.

“I can run and get them after brunch and hang them, then I’ve got some lumber coming to put together that planter box.” He continued, eating his french toast. “So I’ll start sanding them down, make sure they’re cut to size. Sometimes you get them and they’re a few inches or so off.” He explained.

“Today?” Leah pouted.

“Yeah, they close at 2, so I only have a small window to grab ‘em.” He explained.

“But they’ll be there tomorrow, right?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Steve looked up from his plate of french toast to see Leah looking back at him, her big brown eyes as innocent as could be.

“Yeah, they’ll be there tomorrow,” he acquiesced.

“You’ve got just a little,” she leaned forward, flattered by the small drop of maple syrup balancing just carefully on his lower lip. He barely let her close the space before leaning forward, pressing his lips to hers.

He twitched subtly, but felt the earth shift when her sex pressed against his with the forward rock of her hips.

“Lee,” he blushed.

As previously stated, Steve was old fashioned. She had wondered in the beginning stages of their dating life if he was going to tell her he was a virigin, or was saving himself for marriage, - thankfully that was not the case. But Steve was traditional, vanilla, romantic. Things that were just fine - she was always satisfied. Leah, however was a modern woman, and she was ready to teach her old dog some new tricks.

She easily slid her plate, then his, to the coffee table before wrapping her arms around his neck and nesting herself much more comfortably and directly in his lap.

Feeling his hard length was always a flattering feeling that sent a thrill up her spine. His hands traveled up the length of her back and down again, holding her tightly to him.

“I love how big your hands are,” she admitted, lips brushing his. “You’re so strong,” she purred, kissing him again, knowing he could feel her hard nipples against his chest. Steve was a boob guy. She knew he never minded when she’d wear his workout shirts - the thin, breathable fabric always displaying her breasts in a way that he really appreciated.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” He huffed, trailing kisses from her lips, down to her neck.

“Absolutely not,” She giggled, running a hand up the nape of his neck to the back of his head, sending another shudder throughout his body. She pressed her mouth to the shell of his ear, soft pants coming in waves against him. “I want you to fuck me on this couch, Steve.” She purred, sending every hair on his body to stand at attention.

“O-on the couch?” He asked, having a hard time thinking straight as all the blood in his body rushed toward his cock in a way that had him momentarily dizzy.

“On the couch,” she repeated. “Think you can do that?” She asked, feeling the dampness collecting in her sex.

“Anything you want,” he insisted.

“I want you to rip these panties off of me,” she said, rocking her hips into him once more, this time, leaving the faintest trace of wetness against the heather grey of his boxer briefs.

He reached down and complied to her wishes as if her were flicking a light switch.

“I need you in me, baby, I need you bad,” she tossed her head back, grinding her sex against him in a way that had him second-guessing his heart health.

Steve reaches down into his briefs, pulling out his cock and surprising even himself at how hard he was, the angry-looking head staring right back at him. Leah planted her in the couch and gripped the arm behind Steve, lifting herself just enough for him to slide more beneath her. They both groaned out as she sandwiched his cock between his abs and her pussy, grinding up and down the length in a way that felt like pure greed. The crown of his mushroom head caught against her clit as she spread her arousal up and down the length of it.

“Lee,” Steve stuttered.

“It’s so big, Steve,” she whimpered. He was going to commit the image to his memory forever - the inviting pink of her sex spread out atop him, her hooded clit peeking out in a way that was taunting him. She leaned back, bracing her hands against his knees, taking everything from him as she rubbed herself with more vigor against him. Then, she lifted herself just enough to hover, allowing him to reach down and grasp his length. Now, she was the strong one, as she let herself slowly sink down on top of his cock, pausing as she took just the head inside of her vice grip.

It took everything in Steve to not thrust up into her.

“You’re so big,” she echoed, “God, I just want you in me all the time,” she damn near whimpered.

“Lee, please,” he begged with an exhale. She sucked the remaining breath out of him as she allowed her body weight to drop, taking his full length and girth at once. Steve shouted as he bottomed out. Leah swirled her hips, side to side and up and down, taking exactly what she wanted from him. Steve straightened his posture, reaching for the hem of his own shirt agains her skin before bringing it up and over her head.

Wetness pooled against the grey band of his briefs as she rode him, and the sounds she made as she bounced were borderline pathetic. Steve needed more control.

Leah yelped when she found herself laid across the length of the couch, Steve’s cock buried inside her as he hovered over her body

“Give it to me,” she begged, pushing her hips up against him. Steve complied, setting a hard, relentless pace that caused her eyes to cross momentarily.

“Is this what you want?” He husked in her ear, two of his big, blocky fingers pressed against her clit.

“Yes,” she begged, nails dragging down the expanse of his marble back, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his body. Leah wrapped her legs around his lower body and he braced one hand above her head against the arm of the couch, the other holding one of her thighs - keeping her nice and tight to him.

“Steve, I need you to cum inside me,” she whimpered, causing him to stutter his movements. “Please, baby, I need it.” She begged.

“You need it?” He asked, gritting his teeth as she clamped down on his cock, dragging as much out of him as she could.

“Need you to fill me up,” she panted.

Steve watched as she reached down, circling her clit with her fingers as she thrust up to meet him with every movement. He could feel it coming in the soles of his feet - the backs of his thighs getting sweaty as he began to shudder.

“Come on, Lee,” he huffed.

“Want me to come on your cock?” She asked, watching as his eyes dilated.

“Yes,” he all but growled.

“Say it,” she demanded. “Tell me you want me to come on your cock,” she panted again.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he parroted. “Now.”

Leah squealed as her body thrummed, clamping down as every muscle below her heart spasmed, complimented by the feeling of Steve’s orgasm painting her insides. Steve jerked haphazardly, taken aback by the strength of his orgasm.

She ran her hands up the solid ridges of his abs to her chest as they each caught their breath.

“No,” she pouted as he moved to pull out. “C’mere.” Steve obliged, mentally still floating above his body as she pulled him down to rest on her chest, his softening cock still tucked deep within her. He nuzzled into the swell of her breasts as she ran her nails gently up and down his back, hands resting on his ass. As soon as he felt like he could make words again, he pressed a kiss to her breast.

“How long have you been planning that?” He asked, preening as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I think about it every time I see you,” she replied casually.

“Every time you see me?” He asked, a little bewildered, eyes looking up at her from her cleavage.

“Every single time,” She replied, loving the way a pink blushed dusted his cheeks. She resumed his back rub, “I think about you taking me on this couch, bending me over the back of it, over there on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the backyard, at your desk in your office…” she trailed off. Steve grinned a secret little smirk, pressing another kiss to her breast.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of time left inside this house.”

#quarantine smut #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #captain america #captain america fic #captain america x ofc #captain america imagine #captain america smut #marvel #marvel smut #quarantine with Steve Rogers #quarantine with captain america #cabin fever #steve rogers is vanilla #sexy times with steve rogers #captain america fucks

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losingitinjersey · 4 years

Photo

Ten days in and I’m officially in love. Erp’s (extremely detailed) birth story coming atcha below.

Friday morning I woke up after having taken my first half dose of Unisome so I got the perfect night sleep with minimal grogginess in the morning. Despite the good night sleep I felt off when I woke up. Had some loose stools and slight nausea which was weird for me. It made me take my time getting ready.

I got the pleasure of seeing Kevin in the morning because he was going in for his surgery rotation exam so he had a later start time than his recent 4am mornings. At 8:15 a.m. I was putting on a compression sock and the next thing I know I feel myself peeing/leaking on the fresh pad I just put on. This was unexpected since I literally had just gone to the bathroom and this was too much wetness for a normal bladder leak, especially since I didn’t cough/sneeze/laugh to cause it. Then some cramping started and I immediately started sobbing at the realization of what this meant and got myself to the bathroom immediately. (all while wearing still just half of one compression sock)

I had been texting with my sister that morning (since she’s the only other person awake on the east coast that I text with prior to 8a.m.), told her earlier that I felt weird so she was the first person I texted that I think my water had broken. She told me to call her immediately and she calmed me down and was so happy/excited for me. She said she’d handle calling my mom (who it was 5a.m. for in California) and told me to call the OB’s office. Mind you, Kevin is now 15 minutes into his exam and when he left that morning he said, “this will all be over in 6 hours” so I’m going into this thinking he’d be completely unreachable until 2 p.m. I text my mother-in-law, as I’m waiting for a call back from the OB, to keep her updated and she immediately calls me and tells me to call an ambulance or get an Uber and to get to the hospital asap. The fact that my pain was coming from my vagina and not lower back or abdomen had her worried and she wanted me checked out right away.

Even though I was in pain, and it was increasing, I didn’t think an ambulance was necessary so I texted my next door neighbor to see if she could drive me but she wasn’t responding. Katie, my other neighbor, was in Jamaica so she wasn’t an option. In the meantime, the OB office calls back, I describe what’s happening and she confirms that yes, I need to go to the hospital and she will meet me there. Thankfully, the woman that’s on call is my favorite person out of the entire office of 15 providers, so I’m happy it’s her (Nell, a midwife). Shortly after I hang up I order a Lyft and they were en route before I started getting myself dressed. As we had planned to do all of our last minute prep work this weekend since Kevin would finally be done with his intense surgery rotation, we didn’t have a hospital bag packed. I put on the only clothes that were clean(ish), comfy, and nearby, along with some slippers and took one last belly bump pic before locking up my house, saying goodbye to my cat (who was thoroughly freaked out due to my cries of pain), and waddling to the Lyft parked outside my house.

I tried to act cool in the car not wanting the dude to know he was transferring a woman actively in labor to the hospital but there was a good chance he was aware given how stiffly I sat in his car and how my body language read not to talk to me. Thankfully, the hospital is nearby and 15 minutes later he pulled up to the entrance and I got out of the car and started sobbing again. I walk through the hospital doors and see the single security/registration guy and tell him I’m in labor and ask where I go. He starts giving me directions and I just repeat back to him verbally and with my hand, “three?” and he confirms yes, third floor. (Surprised he didn’t grab me a wheelchair or accompany me). I make my way to the elevators, still sobbing, hit the button and head up to the third floor with a woman in scrubs also getting off on that floor. I walk out of the elevator, stop and look around at all the signs trying to figure out where to go from here. She tells me to turn left so I blindly walk that way alone. I come to a door with a button so I hit the button and am buzzed in. I’m now in a long hallway, not knowing where to go or why no one is helping this pregnant crying woman.

I come up to a desk, eyes blurred with tears and see a sign in book so I grab the pen not sure what else to do and a woman behind the counter comes up so I look up at her, tell her I’m in labor and I don’t know what to do. She then walks with me to a group of nurses and one of them walks me back into a room and has me sit down on a hospital bed, gets me a gown and talks me through a bunch of questions. At one point she makes a comment about how I haven’t gone through any classes. And I’m like, what? Lady, I’ve gone to every single one. She sounded surprised and asked why I was crying then. Um, I’m alone and going through this for the first time - I’m allowed to express how I’m feeling and that feeling is incredibly scared.

Nell comes in and checks where I’m at and it hurts really bad. She says she can’t tell how dilated I am because something about how my cervix hasn’t gone through a pregnancy before but she did say that she could feel Erp’s head. Which shocked me since at my appointment on Monday they commented about how high up the baby was. At this point, I’m then left mostly alone to go through waves of contractions, which hurt far far far worse than I ever expected, with a nurse randomly coming in and out. I’m given an IV and a few medications to curb the pain which were helpful but I definitely was still experiencing an exorbitant amount of discomfort and anguish.

Finally around 10:30 a.m. they start talking about getting me an epidural which needed to wait until I had my blood work processed. By 11 a.m. Kevin had arrived just as they started to administer my epidural. I was really glad he was there even though I was so blinded by pain that I wasn’t able to do much but grip the bed rails and ride them out. After my epidural took effect I felt SO MUCH BETTER. I had this extreme euphoria that made me forget all the pain I had just experienced. I remember even thinking to myself that it wasn’t that bad, I could totally get pregnant again asap.

I’m then checked again and to everyone’s surprise I’m already dilated to a 10. I couldn’t believe it. From what I thought labor was like I thought it would take hours upon hours if not days to get to a 10, not 3 hours. Nell has me hang out for an hour and a half while the epidural wore off so I could get some feeling back to start pushing. Around 1 p.m. I start actively pushing in spurts with the help of Kevin and the nurse. During this time, Kevin takes the 5-10 minute down times to work on completing the paper he has to submit by 4 p.m. Remember that 6 hour time frame he told me about this morning? That included writing a paper so while his test was done in 2.5 hours and he immediately came to the hospital after finishing the test and checking his phone (their phones and all belongings are kept in a separate room during exams so he didn’t realize I was in labor until after he finished the test). So he was able to write, finish and submit his paper all while helping hold my legs and coaching me through pushing. What a man!

At 4:32 p.m. I made my final push (which hurt a lot more than the rest of the pushes) and out came Erp. They placed this warm, slimy baby on my stomach (she had an incredibly short umbilical cord so that was as high as they could place her) and the first words out of my mouth were, “what the fuck.” I “knew” a baby came at the end of this pregnancy but it was still so so so weird to now have this tiny creature with me. Kevin cut the cord and they placed her on my chest as I came to grips with the fact that she’s ours. The nurse was snapping pictures and they all came out with me having the most puzzled faces of disbelief but Kevin’s smile is beaming through :) At birth her stats were 6lbs 14oz and 21 inches. We stayed at the hospital for the next two days and were discharged the afternoon of Sunday, December 20th. (also shown above is the intense rats nest in my hair from going through labor and staying in bed for two days)

I’ve gone through such intense waves of emotion since my water broke. From extreme fear, to the highest high of happiness euphoria, to sobbing at just looking at her and realizing how blessed we are, to irritability and general moodiness, to very deep sorrow at the realization that I don’t get to stay home and live this life with her - that I have to go back to work in an extremely short time span and hand her off to a stranger (who’s to be determined). I’ve never felt mood swings more powerful than this in my life and I’d be lying if I said things are all just peachy keen. I’ve never experienced sleep deprivation like this nor this strength of hormone shifts. Yes, we’re healthy and happy and incredibly blessed but this has been much more emotionally charged than I anticipated, both positively and negatively.

On the whole, though, we’re doing really really well. She’s a great baby who is above all healthy, rarely fussy, is a self soother, and loves snuggling. She’s my little squish and I get excited every time I get to see her, which is at least every three hours due to her feeding schedule.

Thank you all for sharing your support, love and excitement for us during this oh so exciting time!

#please don't reblog #pregblr #momblr #first time mom #birth story #delivery #labor #postpartum #birth #hormones #all the emotions

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good-times-with-theo · 4 years

Text

Black Gold (Chapter Three)

Sydney Boutique Hotel; Sydney, Australia, 3:39 A.M.

Another day, another dollar, as they said. Australia was so uncomfortable with wearing suits and ties, as according to the UN and the Commonwealth of Nations dress code, so the second he always got home, he changed into his usual outfits. The outfits consisted of shorts, t-shirts, and savannah hats. Boots and socks, occasionally. Of course, since he was still trying to find a house for himself, he had to live in a hotel room by himself. The Australian States, or his kids, were all grown up and had their own houses. Mainly because they had the chance to go to college at a young age, unlike their father, who had to fight in both World Wars before even considering university so he could get a well-paying job to support his kids. That was well over 70 years ago now, and here he was: a broke college student trying to find a home so he can stop living at this cursed hotel. Australia sat down on his couch and grabbed his phone, immediately getting a call that was rather coincidental to when he always grabbed his phone out. He answered the phone, only to be greeted by a scream and then the line going dead. “What in the bloody..?” Australia muttered, looking at his phone to see who the caller really was. He felt his heart drop to his stomach when he saw it was from his older brother, New Zealand. What had happened? Australia quickly changed before heading outside, only to find his brother surprisingly okay. “Zealand? What even happened?” Australia asked worriedly. “I heard a scream and--” New Zealand couldn’t help but chuckle. “Australia. That was my Halloween voicemail. Sorry about that.”

“You can’t scare me like that, mate! Do you know how terrified I was?!”

“Haha, yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ll change it. Anyway, we have to go to the Commonwealth of Nations building. Again.”

Australia sighed in annoyance. He didn’t even bother changing back into his suit, mainly because he knew that doing such a task would just delay him and his brother from getting there on time. He got into the passenger seat of his brother’s car, which was a 2010 Ford colored in navy blue that their father had given New Zealand.

Commonwealth of Nations, London, United Kingdom; 7:19 P.M.

After a long drive to the airport, plus a 23-hour long flight from Sydney to London, Australia and New Zealand finally made it in time for the meeting. Of course, they had to stay with their parents until that Sunday, which meant that they would be in their childhood bedroom that they shared for about three to four whole days, plus today, making it five. “Ah, hello, Australia and New Zealand,” Brunei greeted them formally at the door. The two brothers greeted Brunei as they kept walking. Of course, due to Australia’s much taller height than his brother, he saw their father first. “What’s been going on?” Australia immediately asked. “Mom said that you left for London after America had a World War I bomb in his house, then you went missing for three days.” The UK sighed. “Yeah, I know. I went on a secret mission in Buenos Aires with Argentina to figure out certain fault lines. I just returned an hour ago, and now I have a meeting to attend despite my lack of sleep and energy,” the Brit replied, looking at his son.

“Well, what’s going on anyway? You know, with China and Southeast Asia?”

“It’s a long story. Basically, China’s power over the world has been increasing tensions within Asia, Europe, and even North and South America. Even Central America is starting to grow uneasy with China’s growing power. Though, little can be done to stop such a global superpower. The Middle East has been getting worse with the tensions, especially between Bangladesh and Pakistan. The two, once united as father and son, have been arguing due to India’s grip on Bangladesh. I’m sure you know of China’s intentions with the Philippines and North Korea. If not, then that’s a whole other story I’d rather not get into at the moment. In other words besides my own, the world is going on complete lockdown, and that’s all because of Russia and other OPEC members trying to gain Wyomingite oil for their own profits.”

Australia couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Though, China had the tightest grips on himself, his father, and Canada. The three had all been easily manipulated into thinking that China could do no wrong, even when he had been one of the reasons the Cold War even began back in the late 1940s. “Wow,” was all the Australian would say to such a situation. “Mr. UK, Mr. Australia,” Sri Lanka suddenly said to the two. “You’re both needed in Pakistan’s office immediately.” The two nodded, quickly walking to Pakistan’s office in the Middle Eastern section of the Asian Wing. They both hoped it was nothing serious, but who knows. They could both be in deep, deep trouble the second they enter that office.

After a 10-minute elevator ride from the Oceania and European Wings, the two swiftly made their way to Pakistan’s office, knocking on the door before entering. “Pakistan. You called us?” The UK asked firmly. “Yes, yes. Come in. The door isn’t locked,” Pakistan replied from the office. Australia walked in with his father. “What seems to be the issue?” Australia asked.

“Well, I called you two here specifically because of China’s tight, tight grip on us all. Firstly, with the UK. His grip on you is the tightest; always has been, always will be. If you disobey anything he says, your economy will collapse, and so will your nation.”

The UK visibly flinched at the thought. “I know. He also owns half of Australia’s land and helps with his economy as well, whilst he is merely your ally whom you have been having particularly horrid tension within recent years,” he said.

“I know, which is what I would like to acknowledge. His grip on Australia is almost as tight as yours, whilst his on me is hardly even considered a grip. Merely, I am just a puppet for his control. Australia must do everything China says, or else his economy will suffer greatly, but could possibly recover if Australia was forgiven by China for certain actions that he could possibly commit. For example, Australia could make propaganda about China’s communist government, which means that Australia is speaking out against a government that forbids such an act of treason against the Supreme Leader, or the dictator as many other democratic nations refer to them as. If that were to be the case of a situation, China could cut off all trade within Australia’s land, shut down factories, and stop network services, which could cause banks to close and many other tragic collapses in the government. The Australian stock market could collapse, and your own son would be in so much debt that he would never be able to pay it back,” Pakistan said.

Australia stepped a small bit closer to the UK. “Well, what about you?” Australia finally said with enough effort to speak once again. “What will happen if you disobey China?” “Simple,” Pakistan replied. “I will be executed in front of my daughters, Islamabad and Karachi, and my daughters will suffer greatly because of my own actions that were intended to be against China himself, or his government. I do not wish to die in front of my young daughters when even they cannot grasp the idea of death nor grief at such a young age.”

The UK sighed. “We need to deal with China before it’s too late. He could go to America next or even France. He could even reach U.S cities and states,” he said firmly. “He already has,” Australia replied quietly. “Georgia and a few other U.S States rely on China to live. He is their best trading partner. I mean, it’s better than who Louisiana trades with.”

“Who does that boy trade with?” The UK asked hesitantly.

“Saudi Arabia. One of the worst countries ever. He only asks for sand and weapons, which Louisiana, along with Uncle Scotland and a few others, are struggling to keep as their main exports to Saudi Arabia. Especially now since Riyadh, who is Saudi’s son, is now in charge whilst his father is in custody,” Australia answered. Now, it was up to those three to lead a revolution, whether they died in it, or died after it. They needed to break China’s control.

This is only because China is the reason as to why families are being ripped apart, why children are becoming orphans like Riyadh, and even why brothers and sisters are betraying one another for land, just like China had done to Taiwan during the Chinese Civil War.

It was their job to either save the world or let everyone become puppets to China.

Cape Town, South Africa; 5:24 P.M.

Even African countries had fallen prey to China’s manipulation. Well, most of them except for a few others. South Africa was one of them. He was the most famous of the African continent and knew exactly why. Though, he hardly spoke and had a rather formal nature to him, possibly because of the British influence on his country. “Greetings, South Africa!” Egypt said proudly, taking a formal bow to the man. “I’m sure you have heard of recent news involving our dear neighbors in the Middle East; Pakistan if I may specify.” South Africa looked up from his work. “Let me guess: China’s taken control again and is causing tension within Southeast Asia and the rest of the world?” He asked in a formal tone. “Good guess! A correct one indeed, Sir!” Egypt replied happily. “Well, I have come to inform you that the United Nations leaders have called you and Somalia to represent all of Africa. Of course, I envy you, but I do not wish to cause sabotage upon you nor our dear Somalian friend!” The two countries suddenly heard a car rolling up in the driveway. Somalia’s car. “Ah! Speaking of our Somalian buddy!” Egypt said with a bright smile, going to the door and letting Somalia in with a bow. “Greetings, Somalia, sir!” Egypt said proudly. Somalia just nodded and went to South Africa. “Hey. I’m sure our messenger here told you about the recent news and the calling of our presence for the representation of the entire continent, right?” Somalia said formally. South Africa nodded. “How will we represent 54 total countries on a supercontinent, though? All of them have different opinions, different claims, and even different ideologies,” he said. Somalia sighed. “I’m not sure,” he replied quietly. “We could ask all of them about the current situation and see which decision has the most. In that case, then we go with that.” South Africa got a pen, paper, and a clipboard. He quickly put the piece of paper on the clipboard and held his pen in his hand. “That’s the best option we have,” he said. “Egypt!” The South African said firmly. Egypt looked up from getting the mail. “Get one of the cars. One of the business ones. I’m sure you know which airport to take us to by now,” South Africa commanded. Egypt nodded, swiftly going out to the garage with a pair of car keys. After a few more minutes, the car that was perfect to arrive at the airport was in their driveway with South Africa and Somalia entering. Now, they had a long drive ahead of them to the nearest airport. A long, quiet drive with nothing but their thoughts.

Cape Town International Airport; 6:24 P.M.

The two countries were now waiting for their flight to Manhattan, New York, so they could attend the United Nations meeting they never thought would happen in their own lifetimes. “I can’t believe what’s going on… First, China’s manipulating everyone, now he’s causing nothing but tensions throughout the world? Soon enough, we’re gonna be hearing about Russia and North Korea’s relations strengthening into a global superpower relations rank,” Somalia said, looking at the news articles on his phone. “Yeah… It’s getting much, much worse ever since China’s population reached one billion,” South Africa replied. “And that’s mere because of the taxes in his own country. They’re high, and they’re giving him nothing but money to him and his government, yet he claims he cannot feed his own children nor his own brother. He also claims that the Hong Kong protests aren’t happening, even though protestors within his daughter’s own country have been getting beaten and arrested by Chinese police officers who work for China.” Somalia knew how serious the situation was getting, and what it could mean for the future of the world. Especially Africa. Most of the countries had some sort of trading route with China, but Somalia never knew if South Africa himself had ties with the communist. The PA System announced that their flight was boarding and the two stood up with their carry-on bags. “You got first class, right? I don’t want to be sitting next to a crying baby the entire flight,” Somalia said to his friend. “Of course I got first class. Who do you think I am, Central African Republic?” South Africa retorted, looking at Somalia. Somalia chuckled. “No, of course not. Besides, being rich is better than being poor. We can laugh in the faces of those poor imbeciles and watch their countries collapse into chaos, war, and even protests. Like Europe’s current condition,” the Somalian said, a proud grin on his face. South Africa fell silent as he boarded onto the plane. Sure, he was rich and kind of a snob, but that doesn’t mean he was rude and arrogant like many people thought he was. He always offered his help to the other countries of Africa, and even on other continents like Oceania and North America (even though North America didn’t really need his help anymore. Well, Mexico does but he prefers not to speak of it.) After they got situated on the flight, they were offered food and drinks, which the two politely declined for the first half of the flight. Oh, how they regretted it later. As they were flying over the Indian Ocean, they felt an unusual amount of turbulence. It caused people's carry-on bags to fall out of their compartments and spill all over the floor. “What’s happening?” Somalia asked nervously, looking at South Africa. “We have to jump out of this plane. It’s going down,” South Africa replied, only loud enough for Somalia to hear. Somalia was shocked as most people would be, but he nodded in agreement not a moment later, grabbing out the life jackets and raft from his carry-on bag. “I keep these on me at all times. I always come prepared,” Somalia said when South Africa looked at him weirdly. South Africa just nodded and they went to the back of the plane, opening the cargo door as some cargo fell into the Indian Ocean. “Push the life raft into the water after you get your life jacket on!” Somalia shouted over the roaring plane engines next to him and South Africa. They felt a jolt and the life raft suddenly fell out with Somalia still in it. “Somalia! Are you okay?” South Africa asked from the cargo door. “Yeah! I think,” Somalia replied. “Jump down! The boat’s drifting away too quickly for me to try and stop it with the ore!” Somalia then shouted up. South Africa took a running start and jumped into the life raft, landing on the boat safely. “Thank the Gods,” Somalia muttered. “You alright?” He then asked South Africa. “Yeah. I’m fine. What should we do now?”

“We wait until we see land. It’ll be a long, long drift to New York’s coast.”

“Okay. I understand.”

The two countries started their long journey to the United States coastal line. It would be a long, cold road ahead of them. But they had each other. For now.

Mexico City, Mexico; December 16th, 2019

Christmas was always hectic for Mexico. Of course, so was Mexico City, but that was normal for his capital. He had just gotten out of the local cafe shop when he was called by America. “Hola?” Mexico said as he answered. “USA, why are you calling me? Aren’t you busy with the current situation between you and OPEC?” America sighed. “I was, but then South Africa and Somalia washed up on New York’s shore. Now I have to take care of their injuries,” he replied.

“Let me guess; you called me so I could go over and take care of them while you deal with a possible third World War on your hands?”

“Yeah! That would be great! Could you come over right now if that’s possible?”

Mexico was a little concerned. He still had to finish wrapping gifts for his kids, and if he stopped, they could find them and it would no longer be a surprise. “USA, it’s almost Christmas! I cannot take care of them while I still have a family to care about!” Mexico said, clearly upset.

“Fine, fine, fine. When you’re done wrapping gifts, get over here. Or else I’m telling Argentina of what happened with you and Brazil,” America replied as he hung up. Mexico immediately knew he couldn’t let Argentina know how he actually broke his arm back in September. He quickly drove up to America’s border and got in, meeting America there.

“Wrapping gifts didn’t really seem that important after all, huh?”

“Oh shut it, you American idiot.”

Long Island, New York; 11:23 A.M.

“So what exactly happened? Do either of you remember anything?” Canada asked the two African countries. “I remember hearing that the plane was coming down, jumping out of the cargo door, and landing in this life raft,” Somalia replied. “Canadá, just give up already,” Mexico said, looking at the Canadian. “Somalia is the only one that can still be considered alive, whilst South Africa could die at any moment if we don’t get a blood transfusion in the next hour.” Canada just sighed, pulling a chair from the dining room table and sitting down, staring at the ground. “USA, you should call Switzerland. He’s the only doctor around for miles,” Greenland chimed in, looking at America. The American shrugged. “Does it look like I would have the number for that Swiss?” America said firmly.

“Well, isn’t he one of your closest allies, like that Italian?”

“What did you just say about Italy?!”

Canada grabbed America and made him sit down. “I know I have Switzerland’s number, so let me call him.” He then turned to America. “Don’t attack Greenland unless you wanna get on Denmark’s bad side. You know fully well how he can get if you attack his territory that is already beginning to melt because of your pollution.” He swiftly left the room, his snow boots clicking on the hallway floor as he dialed Switzerland’s number. “Hey, Switz? You got a moment or two?” The Canadian asked.

“Yes, why? Did America run out of medication?” Switzerland asked.

“No, no. America is fine. He’s been taking his BPD meds. It’s about South Africa. We found him and Somalia stranded on Long Island’s beach after New York called us, demanding we rush over there immediately.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Switzerland answered. “I’ll be right there,” he then said with a sigh. He then hung up.

Canada walked back out of the other room. “Switzerland is on his way. We can also assume that Austria might be brought over as well,” he said to the others. America visibly flinched at the mention of Austria, for Austria had been the person to approve of the oil heist. “I know you don’t want him to come, but I still want so save South Africa. He doesn’t deserve to die because of him trying to escape a crashing plane,” Canada then said. He then heard knocking and let Switzerland inside. “He’s upstairs in the guest room. Somalia is fine,” Mexico said to Switzerland, looking at him. Switzerland nodded, and Austria soon followed him upstairs. The Austrian felt America’s eyes on him the whole way. He was honestly nervous to be in the same house as someone whom he had tried to steal from. Now, they had to deal with not just the crisis, but two African countries found injured on American soil. That added more tension, and now European countries were beginning to get involved.

#country humans #countryhumans #countryhuman #ch #countryhumans mexico #countryhumans somalia #countryhumans south africa #countryhumans canada #countryhumans america #countryhumans switzerland #countryhumans austria #statehumans #statehumans new york #countryhumans egypt #countryhumans australia #countryhumans new zealand #countryhumans pakistan #countryhumans china #xountryhumans uk

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gray-anxiety · 5 years

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No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 8 → The Game

Read the rest of the chapters here!

For the sake of literally every other reader that does not reside in America, the football mentioned is not your football, it’s the fucked up hand version that Americans are somehow addicted to (especially in southern states). Also, this is a filler chapter and is completely unimportant to the storyline (I just wanted to write the chaotic mess that is the gang of five). Apologies for my writing not being at its best, my cat has fallen ill, so I’m not completely focused when writing currently.

Levi groaned and turned to the other side of his bed. He already knew what time it was as he had just gone to bed not even two hours prior — insomnia sucked ass, but was very consistent at least. Levi slowly sat up and let his eyes adjust to the blinding light coming from behind him while he combed his fingers through his ebony hair. Grabbing his phone off of the nightstand next to him, Levi’s eyes focused on the white numbers standing out from his black lock screen — just as he already predicted, it was 7:20 on the dot. Levi knew he had slept in when it came to him, but Aella had been in his room working on a mural project that took up the entire wall and had stayed there until he forced her to go to bed at 5 A.M. when he saw that she was staring off into space frequently — forcing Levi to stay up later than normal. Levi turned and let his legs slip out from under the covers to dangle off of his bed — he didn’t feel like getting up after the entire ordeal that went down the night prior. Levi’s feet padded to the bathroom silently for a well-needed shower that could relieve his head of the aching headache he had after the shitshow Hanji made after entering the apartment; Levi stepped in the running shower, feeling his muscles relax almost instantaneous when they met the hot pellets of water raining down on him — his thick ebony hair soaked up the water with the utmost ease and successfully, against Levi’s wishes, turned into a mop atop of his head. Levi’s head rested against the glass wall after washing his hair and stood there — thinking about everything that recently happened.

“Damn, this is a pretty nice place, Aella!” Levi’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when, once more, Hanji was pissing the hell out of Levi off for the umpteenth time that hour. Against Levi’s decision, Aella had invited the three gangsters to their apartment to hide for a while after the entire ordeal happening previously. Erwin, as soon as he entered the door, walked to the bookshelf Aella had and looked through each and every book with curiosity, while Mike simply sniffed, nodded to himself, and sat on the couch. Levi did have to admit, those two weren’t nearly as bothersome as one Hanji Zoë — talking with Aella at the table parallel to the wall and kitchen. Levi sighed and combed his fingers through his hair once more; it was bad enough to have one person be affiliated with the infamous Blade, leader of No Sympathy, but to have three others as well? Talk about a death wish. Levi’s thoughts roamed to the conversation he had previously intercepted at the fateful party — who knew his name? Nevertheless, who would sell him out? Granted, almost anyone would sell out Levi at a certain price, but who would be close enough to the government to even consider leaking his name? Levi shook his head and sighed — he needed answers and the only way he was going to get any was to ask around — starting with Hanji. Eventually, the trio left, but not until Hanji promised to come back first thing next morning with the other two as well. Silent knocks rang throughout the bathroom from the door — Levi’s eyes widened — how long was he thinking?

“Levi? Are you okay?” Aella. Levi stood back up to full height and moved his arm to turn off the shower.

“Yeah.” Levi slid open the door and grabbed the towel he had folded neatly on the floor — he wasn’t about to get water everywhere on the tiles. Levi quickly dried off his body and hair before walking out to dress — throwing on a basic sleeveless white shirt and black jeans, Levi carried on with a somewhat established morning routine and opened the door to only see Hanji sitting on the couch.

“Heya, Shorty!” Levi groaned and glared at Aella who only shrugged, carrying on with her discussion with Erwin about some book shit Levi didn’t care about. Levi nodded his head towards Hanji in acknowledgment and headed towards the kitchen for anything that would fill his stomach. Hanji casually walked over to stand beside Levi — irritating him beyond belief. Hanji only smirked and kept standing whilst watching Levi make food.

“Do you fucking mind?” Levi grumbled, seeing Hanji’s shit-eating grin only grow.

“I heard you wanted information from those mafia higher-ups last night, no?” Levi only slightly nodded — not liking whatever idea that’s about to escape Hanji’s lips. Hanji’s grin, somehow, got bigger until finally, she broke eye contact to sit on the counter — practically killing Levi with the thought of the amount of dirt now on the counter.

“Lucky for you, there’s a football game tonight. I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not, newbie, but our weekend football games are huge! Nevertheless, today is Sunday, the unofficial football day of the week! You’re bound to get information there!” Levi’s brow raised; Hanji was absolutely correct — if he wanted to have a starting point, this would be it. Levi couldn’t believe he was about to agree with the irritating gangster genius that was Hanji, but he needed information.

“…Fine. Aella stays with you at all times — do not lose her.” Hanji smirked at a job well done.

“Erwin, Mike, looks like we’ll be going to the game with two others.” Mike, having already heard the entire conversation only nodded. Though, Erwin and Aella both gave Hanji confused glances.

“Hanji, you’re saying you really just got Levi to agree to attend and watch a high school football game?” Erwin was smarter than he looked, Levi had to admit. Yes, Levi was going to attend the game, but watching it, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

“To attend? Yes. Watch? Not likely. At least, not the first half anyway.” Levi looked at Hanji with a blank stare.

“And what of the second half?” Erwin knew Hanji was planning something that not even Levi knew about — and he was the entire topic of this discussion. Hanji messed with her spiked goggles that laid atop of her head.

“Simple, really. Levi has to play the part of just a simple person in attendance, not someone looking for information and indirectly looking shady as all hell. Levi will spend the first half of the game focused on information, while the second half is just pretending to watch, and of course, give a shit.” Aella stood up and sipped out of Levi’s teacup (earning a murderous glance from said man).

“Well, I mean, Levi is short enough for people to not realize he’s there, so he technically could just scout the entire game. If he is really going to join us during the second half, he needs to have a damn good story if asked — I mean, come on, he’s a fucking popular and we aren’t.” Aella slid onto the counter — practically causing Levi to faint from the thought of dirt — and leaned on Hanji, who was cackling after Aella’s snide remarks. Erwin nodded and started to think up any believable story for Levi to use if he’s ever caught; though, as much as high schoolers couldn’t give a shit about regular people, populars were almost always the exception when it came to hot guys.

“Levi is a part of our gang — as simple as that. Aella is there because she is Levi’s girlfriend.” Erwin concluded — even if it was a pretty shallow story, it should drive people away from asking anything else; it was practically an unspoken rule in Karanese that if you know someone if a part of a gang to not ask for your own safety. Aella groaned at the shitty excuse Erwin pulled her into and gave him a glare that lasted until it couldn’t anymore.

“Erwin, you fucking serious right now? That’s all that you could come up with? Not, oh I don’t know, roommate?” Erwin shrugged his shoulders and drank the iced coffee he had brought with him. Levi raised his brow and blinked his eyes a few times.

“…So, if anyone dares to ask me why I’m with you fuckers I have to simply reply with ‘gang activity’?” Hanji nodded her head, finally paying attention after Aella heard of the excuse.

“Pretty much, you don’t have to mention the Aella part, unless they ask of course, but even then you could just say roommate — you’ll just have people assume you guys sleep together so much you now live with one another.” Aella nodded her head — as much as she hated to admit it, Hanji was right. Assumptions killed reputations just like that — this was no exception. Everyone came to a silent agreement on the plan and carried on with whatever the hell they were doing before the discussion. The hours passed, albeit slowly, and eventually, the time came for the football game. Levi turned on his phone and saw the time — 3:45 P.M.

“Let’s go, guys! Who do you think is going to win? Our team is going up against a team from Rose after all.” Hanji asked, mainly towards Erwin — who had predicted every game correctly since Freshmen year. Erwin opened the notes app on his phone and looked at the competitor’s history before clearing his throat.

“Probably ours — they might be skinny, but they don’t have Shadis as a coach.” Aella rolled her eyes and grabbed a mini backpack she had in her room:

“He’s still coaching? Didn’t he lose every single game like a year or two ago?” Erwin nodded and opened the door, holding it open for everyone until Levi closed the door to lock it.

“Yes, he did lose every single game. But, after he heard of Erwin’s impressive on the spot predictions, he went to Erwin for assistance. Our buddy Erwin here was an assistant coach for a year!” Hanji grinned and pulled out her skateboard from the backpack she always carried with her. Aella grinned back at Hanji and set down her own skateboard and bolted on at the same time Hanji did with her own. The mischievous pair had already said ‘race ya!’ ages ago and left the three men in their dust. Mike was first to nod his head in the direction of the two skateboarders:

“So, are we going to go after them, or what?” Erwin nodded while Levi shrugged — might as well as run after them. The three men broke into sprints to catch up with the women and made their way to Karanese stadium placed by the large high school. Hanji kicked her skateboard up and put it in her backpack and stood in the parking lot in front of the stadium; it was already ear-piercingly loud from the cheers of the crowd with the accompaniment of the marching band performing — Levi knew he was going to have a head-splitting headache after this, but he needed any leads possible. Hanji grabbed Aella’s hand and ran into the stadium, leaving Erwin to pay for the admission tickets; after Erwin practically killed his wallet with just admission alone, the three men walked in the cement entrance forming a tunnel that lowered like a long ramp to the field, and evidently, the numerous rows upon rows of seats. Mike easily spotted an overexcited Hanji with an embarrassed Aella holding onto her arm near the top; Mike pointed to the two and nodded to Erwin. Levi let out a groan at the mess he had already borne witness to in the stands and walked off back into the cement tunnel as on both right and left sides of Levi were paths that wrapped around the stadium allotting exits to different areas. The long tunnel even had viewing areas carved out like windows, but without the glass, underneath the stands that were fenced off right above the entrances that both acted like exits on either side of the stadium. Levi walked around and saw some teens leaning against the walls smoking a blunt or two, but nothing suspicious. The crowd roared overhead signaling that the game had begun; even the microphoned commentators could be heard from underneath. Dull pain invaded Levi’s head from all the noise above — he hated football games — they were too loud for him to handle.

“Did you hear about the fight pools being hosted tomorrow? Rumor has it Eren and Mikasa are going to be fighting again!” A guy with close-cropped hair grinned towards his friend. Levi turned his head and stopped walking — fight pools, huh? This was no lead at all, but the possibility of leading to an actual lead pulled Levi to pay close attention. The other male rolled his eyes and fluffed out the lighter portion of his hair.

“Do you hear yourself, Connie? Of course, those two will be fighting again! They always do — it’s how they make their money.” The practically bald teen sighed at his friend’s unexcited reaction.

“Jean, come on. Those two are badass and never cease to give a good show. We should go! It’s also an excuse to see her too, you know.” Jean’s face exploded into a deep blush and stammered denials of a repressed crush on said ‘her’. Levi had enough of pointless high school flings — he already had enough information from that conversation alone. Levi stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued his stroll around the stadium until receiving a text from Aella telling him it was almost time for the second half. Levi walked through the messy crowds and sat next to Aella, who was looking up at the score. Levi looked up as well and saw that it was a fairly close game — home was only leading by a single touchdown; easy enough victory if played right by the guest team. Hanji started cheering her loudest the moment half-time ended and the players once more stepped on the field.

“My ears are ringing from how much cheering Hanji has been doing. Please tell me your expedition was somewhat better?” Aella groaned and laid her head on Levi’s shoulder. Levi huffed and shook his head:

“No. The only information I got was of some fight pools hosting a fight tomorrow — might go. You’re going since shop’s closed tomorrow.” Aella sighed and murmured out a ‘fine’ before directing her attention back to the game at hand. The crowds roared over the tense second half, but neither Levi nor Aella really made a move to stand or cheer; both were tired from endless interaction and a crazy weekend. Just as Erwin had predicted, the home team won by 6 points. Hanji stood up and stretched her arms out:

“That was some game! I really thought you were going to be wrong at some points, Erwin!” Erwin smiled and bowed his head, standing up also.

“Hey, Aella didn’t you think it was some game-“ Hanji stopped mid-sentence when she saw Aella half-asleep, her head on Levi’s shoulder. Levi rolled his eyes and moved Aella’s head so he could stand.

“I’m taking her home anyway. Thanks to you, she’s like this, Asshat.” Levi grumbled to Hanji before hoisting Aella onto his back for him to carry her home.

“Oi, pass me her skateboard, won’t you?” Levi clicked his tongue at Hanji, who complied and handed Levi Aella’s skateboard.

“Since you two are stuck with us, and conveniently enough we have the same lunch period, meet us at the rooftop during lunch, ‘kay? Tell Aella I said sorry!” Hanji smiled goodbye.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you.” And with that, Levi walked home while carrying a half-asleep Aella home.

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hellomissmabel · 5 years

Text

About meeting Seb at MCM

If you just want to read about Seb and not the entire story, skip to the part under the cursive sentence!

Last Sunday I finally had the privilege to meet Sebastian Stan: have a photo op with him as well as an autograph and attend the panel. It was my first con abroad and I made a stealth suit dress just for the occasion. My parents accompanied me to London and back, because all 3 of us share so much love for this city and have visited it frequently over the years.

But I digress.

I met up with my friends @st-eve-barnes and her hubby, @sarahp879 @firewolfkelly and her sister and I saw @angryschnauzer too!

It was quite a rush to get there since our hotel was located about 1 hour away from ExCel London. Yet I got up at 5:45 a.m. so I had enough time to get ready. Then the trouble started. The hotel couldn’t find our breakfast reservation so we lost about 15 minutes until they realised they booked it under the wrong name. Oh the perks of having a foreign last name that nobody can write correctly.

Regardless of that little miscommunication, we finished breakfast early with 5 minutes to spare! Mainly because I couldn’t eat a damn thing tbh, I was dead nervous. The walk to the underground usually takes us 20 min but we did it in 10 because guess what? I was half power walking half running and my parents could barely keep up haha!

This allowed us to catch an early ride and I arrived JUST IN TIME AT EXCEL TO COLLECT MY WINTER SOLDIER PASS AND JOIN MY FRIENDS IN LINE FOR OUR PHOTO OP WITH SEB!!!

This is the part that talks about Seb!

While we were standing in line, @st-eve-barnes her husband times how long one photo op took and the average was like 8 seconds. That’s not a lot, but you take what you can get. I was so nervous and so focused on getting the pic ready to show Seb which pose @st-eve-barnes and I wanted that I barely had any time to look at the guy. I don’t remember looking at him at all. I just remember doing the pose with Eve and then going through my phone to find the pic of the next pose because I knew it had to go fast and didn’t want to waste Seb’s time. My hands weren’t shaking but I was shaken to the core than he was standing RIGHT THERE.

So before I could realise he had his arms wrapped around me from behind, I gently placed my hands on his arms as he held me for a very short period while they took my photo. It was magical. But I don’t remember much of it. It’s all a dream to me at the moment. It actually happened, right? Someone pinch me!

The autograph session was different, a little more time though there were stewards everywhere to monitor us, the fans, and tell us if we were taking up too much time. You had to give your pic to the steward and they ‘put it in a queue’ for Seb to sign. Eve’s husband had only just took his pictures and was still standing in line when Seb was almost done signing mine. It felt rushed and I can’t imagine he was happy about that because we all know Seb loves the interaction with his fans.

I was high on adrenaline BECAUSE I NEEDED TO GIVE HIM MY GIFT.

So maybe you know this or not but my country basically invented a new kind of chocolate called ruby chocolate. It’s pink and expensive and I made chocolate chip cookies with it for Seb. I carefully wrapped them up, added a note and put them in a lovely pink box of my favourite pastry shop (I chose the box on purpose so you can’t possibly miss it! It’s bright pink!).

I wanted to hand it to him but the steward took it instead. Bummer. But I did tell him I made them myself, that I made them with ruby chocolate and that I chose this box because it’s of my fav pastry shop. He looked up at me, actually LOOKED UP AT ME, and said “wauw, thank you so much”. It was a long “wauw”/”wow” (however you write it, I’ve seen both), a very long “wauw/wow”.

He was genuinely impressed.

I could almost cry. I bake because it makes me happy and the fact that I could make Seb happy with my cookies, that just... that just means the world to me.

Was it the fact I made cookies, was it the fact the box stands out so much, was it the fact I was standing there in my stealth suit dress that I made myself? I don’t know and I don’t care! SEBASTIAN STAN SAID WAUW/WOW TO ME! I was blushing so much I - again - only realised that happened when it was over.

Last but not least, the panel. We waited in line for so long. The queue would start at 12 so we got there by 12. We were already at the back of the queue. NOT FAIR!

We did have a good spot though. Third row on the left. The panel itself was shorter than originally scheduled and I didn’t like the lady interviewing him (her accent was amazing - Scottish - but the sound of her voice not so much). I loved Seb though (of course I did!) but I didn’t love the focus on all the Bucky questions. I get that he is famous for Bucky and I enjoy Bucky questions just as much as anybody else but HE HAS DONE MORE THAN MARVEL YOU KNOW.

There were like at least 30 people there wanting to ask questions to him, only like 6 could do so. I was at the far back of the line and didn’t get to answer my question but it would’ve been one about ‘I, Tonya’. My friends tell me it would’ve been a great question.

All in all, I had a wonderful time. I finally met Seb and I just can’t believe it. I thought it would never happen at all. AT ALL. And now it did! Maybe it’s because I found two pennies on my trip to London (and pennies bring good luck), but I feel so blessed and lucky to have been able to do this. Especially since so many other fans can’t.

Frankly, I’m afraid to look at my pics again because I’m suffering from post con blues. But I will try and find a very nice frame for them, not an IKEA one, but one of those fancy frames in one of those fancy designs stores I always drool at. Because Seb deserves the best.

Note; if you want to see the pic I got with Seb, you’ll have to wait a little longer. Post con blues, y’know.

#annie talks #mcm comic con #mcm #meeting seb #sebastian stan #seb stan

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omeliashepherdhunt · 5 years

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Simple Ch. 1

Seattle was carrying on its stereotypical behavior with the nonstop rain. Owen hated having to drive in torrential downpour so late at night but another day at work got away from him with a steady flow of traumas. By the time he parked in the driveway, the clock on his dashboard read 10:28. Maybe his wife would still be up to see him.

With his keys and bag hung up on the hooks by the front door, Owen quietly walked through the entryway and into their living room to see what Amelia was up to. Part of him was disappointed to see she was asleep but he couldn’t help but smile when he saw baby Abel still latched to his mother’s breast, both of them contently asleep. He was a miracle no doubt. Born with Down Syndrome and ASD, he had undergone heart surgery at 4 days old to correct the hole in his heart. However he flatlined twice during the procedure which shook the Hunt family to their core.

In typical Grey-Sloan surgeon fashion, Amelia and Owen had been up in the surgical theater watching as none other than Sam Bennett operated on their newborn so they witnessed their son come back from the brink of death twice. Amelia decided right then that she would be taking an extended maternity leave. Abel would be immunocompromised more than typical babies with his heart issues, and he already had 2 school aged siblings and 2 parents that worked inside a hospital to provide plenty germs. Owen on the other hand was so bothered by what happened, he didn’t want to think about it ever again. In return, he buried himself in work so he hadn’t been home much the past month other than his one off day he’d take.

When Owen leaned in to unlatch Abel to move him to the bassinet in their bedroom, he took a moment to admire Amelia’s beauty. However the longer he looked, the more he noticed. Her cheek bones were more prominent, her collarbone was even more noticeable, and even her ring looked a bit loose on her finger. She was already a petite woman so her apparent weight loss didn’t sit right with Owen.

He quickly moved Abel off of Amelia which only startled her awake.

“What the hell?”

“It’s just me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“He was sleeping. We were fine.”

“I know but you can’t sleep in the recliner all night. Let’s go to bed. It’s coming close to 11 o clock.”

Amelia was definitely drowsy but was happy to settle in their bed. She wasn’t used to Owen being around anymore. They hadn’t really discussed it which in the long run would only worsen whatever riff they had, but she didn’t know what to say to him anymore. He just wasn’t around. Instead of focusing solely on their newborn son, she also had to split herself for the older three. Flynn had baseball and Bella was in gymnastics. Between two school kids, their sports, a very clingy one and a half year old, and their specially abled baby, both of which she was still nursing, there was no time for herself. She didn’t have Owen around to help offset the heavy load that was their life and honestly she didn’t have it in herself to fight with him about it. Amelia was spread as thin as possible and it showed. The house wasn’t trashed, but it was messier than they usually kept it. She felt that if she could keep the four kids alive, fed, and on time for school and sports each day, that was enough. Anything else could wait for another day.

“Well, good night. I hope the kids behaved for you.”

Amelia hugged into her pillow and not Owen like she normally liked to.

“They were great. Flynn and Bella are great helpers. He has a baseball game tomorrow at noon but don’t worry, he already knows Dad will probably be at work. Bella mastered her back handspring tonight so she’s really excited about that. Rosie is cutting all four molars at the same time so she is miserable.”

“What about Abe?”

“He’s good. He’s as strong as ever. Not at all scary.”

Owen shook his head at the very intentional dig she threw at him. While she didn’t care to argue, she would make it known how much she hated that he willingly chose to stay away.

“I’m not scared of my own son, Amelia.”

“Really? When was the last time you held him for more than 5 minutes? I mean hold him just to admire him, not just because I need to brush my teeth and hair. They’re only a baby once.”

“I saw the monitor both times his heart stopped. It haunts me. I’ve doubted my ability as a parent ever since that day. I wish I could forget that that happened, but I can’t. Instead I save lives. I focus on that.”

“I was there too! You weren’t the only one. Ya know, I would’ve never done what you did. Then again, I was never given that option. You have three other kids too. They miss their dad. Sam knew what he was doing in the surgery too. Abel is strong and he made it. We clearly aren’t on the same page but just know I’m done covering you with the kids. Flynn and Bella are both old enough to understand what is going on. They will remember when you weren’t around. If you can live with yourself knowing that, okay. I am so exhausted day in and day out. So do what you want but they know Dad has no true reason to always be gone.”

Not another single word was spoken from either of them. Owen didn’t like knowing how much he was impacting his kids. Apparently he hadn’t thought too much into it until now.

Amelia was woken up just after 8 a.m by Bellamy climbing in bed with her.

“Mama, Daddy is cooking pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Flynn is helping squeeze oranges for orange juice. Daddy put Rosie in her highchair with some banana and the baby is sleeping.”

“Oh thank you for coming to see me. Good morning my sweets.”

“Daddy isn’t working today?”

“It’s supposed to be his weekend off so he shouldn’t...”

Bellamy’s face lit up but Amelia didn’t want her to be disappointed in case he elected to go in.

“... but if he gets paged, then he will have no choice but to go. Mama and Daddy save lives.”

“And if you and Daddy are here, there are people that may not make it.”

“Yes but we love you all the same.”

Bellamy curled up to her mom’s side, basking in the rare moment of being the only one with Amelia.

“Mama, can we do something fun today? Like going to the aquarium? I want to see the otters again like we did on my field trip.”

Amelia kissed the top of her daughter’s head, taking a second to breathe in the sweet scent of Bella’s strawberry shampoo.

“Your brother has a baseball game at noon but we can go tomorrow if everyone behaves today. Do you still want to spend the night with Uncle Andrew and Aunt Maggie?”

“Yes please! They let me help give Emma and Evan their baths at night. It’s so much fun. Will Daddy come to the aquarium on Sunday?”

“I don’t know, sweets. You’d have to ask him.” Amelia laid there a little bit long with her oldest daughter until she heard her youngest start to fuss on his baby monitor.

“Bella, go see Dad. I’m going to feed Abel then I’ll come eat breakfast with everyone.” “Okay mommy! I love you very much.”

“Love you too sweet girl.”

By the time the older kids were dropped off with their aunt, uncle, and twin one year old cousins by Owen, Amelia had Rosalie and Abel nursed to sleep for their mid-afternoon naps. Shockingly he had been at home with her and the kids all morning and afternoon. Now she was uncertain of what to do. Amelia wasn’t used to his undivided attention since typically the kids were running circles around them or the whole house was asleep by the time Owen got home at night.

Owen carefully sat down beside Amelia on the couch. “Babe, can we talk about last night?”

“What about it?”

Owen ran his fingers through his tousled curls. This wasn’t going to be easy for him but he could only blame himself.

“There’s no excuse for my absence. I have let my wife down and all of my kids. Sorry won’t suffice, I know. I am just going to work on being here. Seeing you last night with Abel still latched onto you and you both fully asleep, looking like a pair of angels, I noticed you have even lost enough weight for your wedding rings to not fit properly anymore. If there’s no one here to help you, you won’t have time to get proper rest or eat meals that isn’t pb&j and goldfish. That’s my fault and I hate myself for it. I have two weeks left of paternity leave that I haven’t used since I went back to work 2 weeks after Abe was born. I called Bailey on the drive home to let her know I’m using those two weeks effective tomorrow.”

“But why? You have been so happy since you went back to work…”

“Absolutely not. I’ve just kept busy. I let my entire family down and now I need to redeem myself. I love you so much Amelia. I love you, Flynn, Bella, Rosie, and baby Abel more than anything. I’m also going to make sure to bond with Abel has much as I can these next two weeks.”

Owen finished his long winded statement to see Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Owen, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say something like that.”

She hugged into his side and was happy to have him with her now. “It’s true. I promise. I’ll be right here with you. I’m all yours for two weeks straight.” “I love you. This doesn’t fix everything but it’s a good start.”

“I love you too. I know it’s not gonna get back to normal overnight but we can take it day by day together with the kids.”

#omeliashepherdhunt #owenhunt #ameliashepherd #simpleomeliashepherdhunt #simpleomeliafic #omelia #omeliafics #omeliadrabbles

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ourpositivelatitude · 5 years

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Everyday Life in a RV

Another beautiful day in Florida! I ABSOLUTELY understand now why snow birds make their way to Florida to spend the winter. The weather here is second to none! While we arrived in Florida a little early and caught the end of summer temperatures (in November) with slightly high temperatures and incredibly high humidity, the weather has since leveled out and is practically perfect every day.

When Mark and I planned this venture, we vacillated as to whether or not we would tow a vehicle. We knew we “wanted” a vehicle and having one would be more convenient. However, we ended up settling on getting fold-able electric bikes (e-bikes) and to be inconvenienced by having to run our errands in the RV between stops or on our e-bikes. That has turned out humorous on more than one occasion.

As an example, we had issues with the drain in the RV shower and worked on that problem tirelessly. Let me rephrase, Mark worked on that problem tirelessly. My “work” involved paying for my very first “pay” shower at a park in Oklahoma where I had to choose between three showers. One had a tarantula guarding the inside of the front door. Nope. The second had a wolf spider guarding the shower floor. Nopity, nope, NOPE! The third was just right. More accurately stated, it didn’t involve any intimidating spiders or snakes so I took it. I don’t remember how much it cost, but I would have paid serious money for a decent shower that didn’t involve creatures that could kill me.

Getting back to the shower repair -- Mark got parts at three different hardware stores that didn’t end up fitting/working. So, we eventually fixed the RV in the Home Depot parking lot so we could return parts as necessary. It was hot as bejesus that day, but Mark didn’t complain. He took advantage of the return policy and got our shower back up and in running condition before we left the parking lot. While I don’t mind doing my part, I’d be happy as to not have to pay for another shower anytime soon. But let the record reflect, I’m a giver.

Between RV stop locations, we usually plan a grocery store venture and/or a Costco run. While our fridge isn’t Costco worthy by any stretch of the imagination, we do buy Costco dog food for Riley and Duke (and red wine need not be refrigerated). This particular stop we are at for a full month and while I’m not out of red wine (yet), we did need a few necessities.

On Sunday after church service, Mark and I ventured over to the local Winn-Dixie (grocery store) on our e-bikes, which is approximately three miles from our RV for some necessities. We both take our backpacks to carry groceries, but on this particular venture we needed a few more things than would fit in both of our backpacks. For example, we NEEDED the half ham that was on sale for only $10 (love those post-Thanksgiving sales)!! Also, diet Coke was on sale, buy two 12-packs get one for free! Our backpacks were full of salad, coffee creamer and other necessities, so I convinced Mark it wouldn’t be a problem to bungee cord anything else down to the back rack on our bikes. He was a willing participant as long as he could get his diet Coke. This is a picture of Mark with the half of a ham and one pack of diet Coke. While this picture doesn’t represent the “Clampett look” I was sporting with the other two diet coke 12-packs AND groceries, it does give you an idea of how humorous such a simple thing as grocery shopping can be.

Much of the rest of any given day is like everyone else’s, EXCEPT looking for stuff. We have such a small amount of space and we kept very few things. However, nothing is more frustrating than knowing you have something and in 31 feet of space, you can’t find it. Many times I’ll be looking for something, like the dog’s nail clippers. I know I have one ... but where in the 42 bazillion little containers, cabinets or under storage compartments it is, I have no clue. I’ve lost these dumb dog nail clipper thingies TWICE now. I don’t know what is up with that, but I’ve noticed that on a rig this size, that tends to happen. You know it exists. You know it’s in your possession...somewhere. You’ve seen it in the last few months, weeks and sometimes days ... but when it’s necessary to find it, it’s no where to be found. Grrrr. I’m blaming this problem on the size of the RV and praying it’s not my old age kicking into high gear.

Learning how to live in 31 feet of space has been interesting, fun and challenging. I love our little space in life. It’s portable and I can take it to any place I’d like. I can enjoy the outdoors in any state, any weather, any place I desire. That’s pretty cool. It’s also easy to clean and doesn’t take too long to clean. It’s such a little space, cleaning is done in a breeze. With two dogs though, cleaning needs to be done more often than one would hope (definitely an argument for getting rid of the dogs, but we all know that is never going to happen).

I also get to spend a lot of time with my husband. I like him. I love him. I enjoy his company. I find him hysterical even in the every day humdrum of life. So I enjoy having him around. We also have our subtle ways of getting our own alone time. It may involve a walk, a jog, a bike ride alone or sometimes its as simple as putting in ear buds as a signal that “I don’t want to interact”. We are both independent, so just taking on a project is usually a signal to the other that we are “good” on our own. None the less, it’s been a great experience for us both and we still enjoy each others company.

The other thing I get asked about quite frequently is the bathroom situation. Yes, there is only one bathroom. Its not a Jack and Jill bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and a separate closet with a toilet. It is a dry toilet with a small sink and stand-up shower, all in one small space - meaning one person can stand between the sink, toilet and shower. There is a spray wand next to the toilet to fill the bowl with water and a foot pedal that is used for flushing. The sink is small, like a doll house small, but large enough for the task of washing hands and face, and brushing teeth. The shower is plenty big. I’m 5 foot almost 2 inches and I can stand up in it. Just kidding - my 6 foot husband can stand up in it, so it’s definitely functional (now that the drain has been fixed). There is a vent in the ceiling with a push button exhaust fan and the toilet is like a regular toilet, except for needing to fill it with water yourself. That’s the bathroom situation. Nothing glamorous and generally no secrets.

My husband and I don’t keep the same hours. Meaning, it’s not all that uncommon for him to get up between 3:30-5:00 a.m.. At the same time, I’ll look at the clock, do a quick calculation in my head and then a happy dance over the 4 hours I still get to sleep. When my husband gets up, he’s really respectful of the fact that most normal people are still asleep, including his wife and two dogs. So he quietly relocates to the living room/dining room area and does his thing until the sun comes up. We have levelers on the RV, so his movement is negligible.

As soon as I stir, or when Mark gets stir crazy, he’ll take the dogs for a walk. There is nothing subtle about that process as much as Mark tries to keep it contained. Our 70 lb. black Labrador retriever, Duke, moves about the cabin like a bull in a china shop. Between his wagging tail slapping against the cabinets and his incessant yawning, even the neighbors are ready for him to WALK ALREADY! Riley, our 23 lb. Japanese Spitz isn’t all that cooperative either. She gets a psychotic episode and is afraid to walk across the vinyl floor. Yes, she’ll step out on it, and step back on her little piece of carpet, then back out on the floor and back on the carpet. From underneath the comforter all I hear is Mark loudly whispering “Riley, come!” and the tap-tap-tap of Riley’s toenails on the vinyl floor several times until she drums up enough courage to make a break for it and hurriedly jogs across the four feet of vinyl flooring between her little piece of carpet and the door. As my friend Wendy says, she was perfect until I got her.

Everyday life in an RV is pretty much like everyone else’s everyday life, with a few slight nuances. Mark and I could have made different choices so as to not have to bungee cord our groceries to the back of bikes, live in a home that we sleep in and drive, live in such a small space, and/or waited until the dogs were gone to start this venture. But for us we talked about the choices we were making in advance and collectively agreed while some things would be inconvenient, we would give it a whirl and see what we thought. If we found we hated it down the road, we’d make a change. So far, we don’t hate anything about it. Quite this opposite. We are super glad we took this journey and in the way we did.

As I mentioned previously, we are transitioning to a “newer” journey. We found the boat that we would like to live on and have an accepted offer on that boat. Because there are still many steps in the process (it’s sooooooo different from buying a house) and too many things could go wrong that it would be premature for me to talk about the specifics of the boat. However, in my next blog I’ll talk about the boat purchasing process and hopefully we’ll be far enough along in the process that I can reveal a thing or two about what I hope to be our new home. Stay tuned....

Until we meet again,

Sherri (and by contractual obligation, Mark)

#everydaylifeinaRV #ourpositivelatitude pilgrimreport RVlife retirementtour sherririnkel retiredyoung retired lovingmylife retiredlife livingthedream #ourpositivelatitude #pilgrimreport #RVlife #retirmenttour #sherririnkel #retiredyoung #retired #lovingmylife #retiredlife #livingthedream

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galli-writes · 5 years

Text

Anything at All

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

(Click here to listen to the podfic!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello everyone! I have returned after 5 months to finish what I've started because I love this fic too much to abandon it. Expect updates to be much more regular. And this time I mean it!

Chapter 3: The Letter ( words: 4,711 )

4:23 a.m.

The red numbers on his alarm clock seemed to stare back at Beast Boy with an unflinching glare. Like an animal that mocked him simply by existing. Beyond the window, a yellow glow seeped through the tightly drawn blinds.With a grunt, he rubbed his eyes and flipped over face first onto his pillow. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness hours ago.

By all accounts, he was exhausted . Every muscle in his body ached. His head continued to pound like a battering ram against a stone wall hours after the fight was over. The only thing worse than being electrocuted (three times) was the grueling pain the shocks had left in their wake. By now, he’d lost count of how much Advil he’d taken. It was probably safe to say ‘too much’.

But the burning in his muscles and the city lights creeping in through his window weren’t what kept him awake. Not really.

The problem was that, every time he did skirt the edge of sleep, it started all over again.

Goosebumps prickled on his arms at the mere thought of it. The cold tile on his skin. The muffled voices of his friends in the distance, even more distorted in his memory. When he closed his eyes, he saw the same darkness he’d retreated to only hours before. Even now he found himself instinctively holding his breath.

The culprits had escaped, and he knew it had been (at least partially) his fault. He was sure Robin was disappointed in him. Maybe even annoyed. But that hadn’t been his biggest mistake of the night. Not by a long shot.

Beast Boy flipped over again, unable to lie still as the scene played before him. He shut his eyes tighter, rubbing his hands over his face. But the increasing darkness only made things more real. Even lying completely still, he easily felt the ghostly traces of someone’s fingers on his neck. He threw the sheets back from around his face. They suddenly felt like spiders crawling all over him.

But above all, he couldn’t tune out her voice, echoing in his ears.

‘ Not everything is a joke. And one day you’re gonna learn that the hard way. ’

Beast Boy flinched. He rolled over. Pulled the sheets up again, and turned the clock the other direction. But it was no use.

He bit his lip, staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t think everything was a joke. Of course he didn’t.

He just acted like it sometimes.

He bit his lip harder, exhaling a deep, wavering sigh.

Was there a difference?

Flooded with shame, he tried his best to disappear. And somehow, pulling the sheets up all the way over his head was oddly convincing. He closed his eyes once more, now that he felt he’d finally escaped from the reality of what he’d done--if only for the night. Under the sheets it was warm and stuffy--just enough so to lull him into a still, dreamless sleep.

***

“Rise and shine!”

Cyborg’s voice echoed under the metal door, traveling in waves.

Beast Boy’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright in bed. At the other end of the room, a bright white light glowed behind the blackout curtains.

“It’s waffle time, baby!” The voice rang out again, this time bouncing off the walls as it carried toward the kitchen.

Beast Boy rubbed his eyes, still finding it difficult to open them completely. When he finally did, he saw that the clock read 10:34 a.m.

With a groan, he ran his hands over his face once more. The inside of his head spun like a broken rattle, clamoring with leftover thoughts and emotions he couldn’t parse out. All in all, he felt regrettably similar to the fateful morning he’d discovered he was the definition of a lightweight.

With all of the energy he could muster, he rolled out of bed and rummaged the floor to find a stray T-shirt to throw on. As he pulled the shirt over his head however, one of the puzzle pieces unveiled itself. His arm ached. Bad . And then he remembered why.

The door clicked open as he exited his room, eyes barely open. A hand instinctively flew to his face to shield his eyes from the piercing light that flooded in through the main window down the hall. He trudged into the kitchen, each step more taxing than the last. When he finally made it to the threshold, he caught a glimpse of a bedheaded Robin manning the waffle iron and Cyborg pouring himself a glass of orange juice. At the far end of the room, in her usual spot, Raven sat reading a book, a cup of tea hovering beside her. The sight of her made him flinch for a moment, as images of last night came rushing back to him. He tried, and failed, to ignore them.

The only person missing from the room was Starfire. Beast Boy blinked hard, rubbing his temple at the realization. Starfire missing on a Sunday morning could only mean one thing.

“ALLRRRRRIIIGHT,” Cyborg bellowed, setting his glass down on the coffee table with an enthusiastic thud. In his other hand, he waved around a few sheets of paper. “Who’s ready to DUNGEON SOME DRAGONS?” he hollered, like he was orchestrating a high school pep rally. When no one responded, he looked over expectantly at Raven.

“Uh...go team?” she said, in an equally unenthusiastic tone.

“Okay, I know you’re into this shit deep Rae, don’t even try it,” he said with a half smile. “The rest of y’all better’ve actually updated your character sheets this time,” he said with a smirk, now looking at Beast Boy.

Beast Boy froze, a lump in his throat. Not because of Cyborg’s joking glare, but because he locked eyes with Raven, who had also now turned to look at him. There wasn’t anything particularly threatening about her gaze in that moment, but Beast Boy still found it hard to meet.

“I, uh...,” he squirmed, trying very hard to look at Cyborg and only Cyborg as he said it. When that didn’t work he just stared at the ground. “I--I’ll be right back.” With a sheepish grin, he spun on his heels and retreated directly back the way he’d come.

With the door to his room shut firmly behind him, Beast Boy closed his eyes, hoping it would keep the room from spinning any more than it already was. But he was starting to think that the sleep deprivation wasn’t the only reason he suddenly felt nauseous. He peeled himself off the back of the door and slunk into the chair at his desk, shaking his head. He just needed to set his mind straight.

Red and green lights flashed in the cracks between his fingers as he booted up his computer, and the whirl of a fan began to take up some of the deafening silence. When the lights were replaced with a single steady glow he opened his eyes fully, fought the urge to slap himself, and opened several documents on the desktop.

First he scanned over his character sheet, updating the stats he already knew how to calculate. His current character was a half-elf bard named Tangus. You could have snapped him like a toothpick, but the guy was oozing with charisma, and as far as Beast Boy was concerned, that was what really mattered.The best kind of characters were the ones who could talk their way into or out of anything. Characters that were smooth and funny--charming, romantic, and likable. Characters who always knew just what to say.

He paused, then frowned at the thought. Maybe he was compensating for something.

Shaking his head, Beast Boy turned to one of the many other windows he’d pulled up--a spell database he referred to often. He was busy mulling around the idea of picking up another healing spell when he was suddenly interrupted by the chime of a notification from his computer.

He figured it had to be one of his friends yelling at him to hurry up. But when he searched around for the origin of sound, he found no new messages on discord or any of the other messaging apps he frequented. What he did find, buried under three layers of abandoned tabs was a sign of life radiating from his Facebook notification bar. Beast Boy narrowed his eyes at it. Facebook was buried that far back for a reason. After all, it was more of a publicity page than anything else. He didn’t have much of an alter ego, so keeping up a personal one was kind of a moot point.

He had two new friend requests.

One of them he recognized right away. It was the friend request he’d gotten from Cold Stone two months prior that he’d never accepted just on principle. He sighed, almost a little disappointed.

But the second one--the more recent one-- did catch his eye.

It also looked very much like spam. The man in the profile picture looked a little too well put together. Almost like a stock photo. He had olive skin and dark hair that was slicked back cinematically. He brandished a full, welcoming smile. Like a dentist trying to promote himself and advertise his services at the same time.

Next to it Beast Boy read the name ‘Nicholas Galtry’.

He sat back in his chair.

For a reason he couldn’t place, the name felt...familiar. As if he’d encountered it once in a dream or in a movie he’d watched a long time ago.

He looked closer, clicking on the picture. Whoever it was, they had no mutual friends between them, and when he tried to investigate the man’s profile further, he only found one more hazy picture very similar to the first.

Once more, Beast Boy leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen. A weird friend request wasn’t really that much to worry about—usually. But something about the man’s face sat wrong with Beast Boy.

“Beast Boy? You ready?” Robin’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Uh...Yeah, coming!” he yelled back, quickly closing the tab and toggling back to his character sheet and clicking print. He swiped the papers out of the printer and ran back down the hallway into the main room.

Everyone was sitting in their claimed spots around the table—again, everyone except Starfire. Robin was just now making his way to the table with some pancakes. From the couch, Raven watched intently as Cyborg focused every ounce of his attention on the dice tower he was building.

No later than the second it came crashing down, Starfire burst into the room.

“Hello, friends!” she exclaimed, flying over to her spot at the head of the table. “I’m sorry I am late. But during my preparations for our game of dragons in dungeons I encountered the most interesting of objects.”

Everyone turned their attention to her--even Beast Boy, who hadn’t yet made it to the other side of the room. It was hard to not stop and stare at the thick ivory envelope she brandished above her head. In the center of it was a bright red wax stamp, like something plucked from a period drama.

“What is it?” Robin and Cyborg said in unison.

Starfire lowered the envelope and looked down at it, confusion in her face. “I am not sure. While I was taking the silkie out for a walk this morning, I noticed someone approaching our neglected box of postage,” she continued. “The stranger left it within and quickly vanished.”

Robin pouted, extending out a hand. “Mind if I take a look?”

With a nod, Starfire handed it over to him.

He studied it for a moment, looking the envelope over back to front. Then he merely shrugged, handing it back to her. “I dunno. Looks like they probably had the wrong address.”

“We live in a giant T,” Cyborg said. “How do you mess something like that up?”

“Cyborg makes the good point,” Starfire said, taking the envelope back and holding it up to the light. She squinted at it as if doing so might reveal its true purpose. “I do not recognize any of these names. If they are names.” She squinted even harder.

“Lemme see that,” Cyborg said, extending out a hand. After reading the front of the envelope for himself, his face morphed from confusion to pure amusement. “Damn,” he laughed under his breath. “I feel bad for whoever this was supposed to go to. What a fucking name,” he said, handing the letter to Raven as it naturally began to make its rounds.

Once in her possession, Raven flipped the letter over in her hand, running her finger over the intricate seal on the back. She stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Though that didn’t betray much, considering that her default expression always lingered somewhere between disinterest and disapproval.

Beast Boy found that in those few short moments he had inched his way decidedly into the room, as if drawn in by a magnetic force. He didn’t even realize that he had crept up behind her and had started to even lean forward to try and catch a glimpse over her shoulder until, as if on cue, she yanked it away and held it just out of his reach.

“Hey, lemme--” Beast Boy began to protest.

Raven narrowed her eyes again without saying anything, looking down at the envelope again.

A sly smile crept onto Beast Boy’s face. For a moment, he forgot why he had ever been so hesitant to enter the room. The scene felt so familiar.

In the span of a second, the letter was in his talons, Raven muttering a curse under her breath. When his feet hit the kitchen floor, Beast Boy had to stifle a snicker. He turned just in time to catch Raven shooting him her middle finger. And oddly enough, he breathed a sigh of relief at the gesture.

The relief didn’t last long.

The moment Beast Boy flipped the letter over to its front, he froze. His eyes scanned over it a second time--a third and fourth. But the words on the front didn’t change. His heart rate did.

“You okay, man?” Cyborg called to him over his shoulder, surrounded by the curious gaze of the rest of his friends.

Beast Boy quickly whipped around, dropping the letter in front of him and hastily picking it back up, pressing it to his chest. “Fine! I’m...fine.”

Starfire gaped. “Do you perhaps know who it is for?”

“No--I...I just--” He stammered. But before he knew it, Starfire was hovering over him, eyes transfixed on the envelope.

“I must ask,” she continued, completely disregarding his answer. “What is a ‘Gar’, and what may be the purpose of cultivating them in a field?”

“It’s just a name, Star,” Robin interjected.

“A terrible one,” Raven said, to no one in particular.

But to Beast Boy, the statement had felt unnervingly personal.

“Gar...field?” Starfire repeated again, testing the two sounds together as one.

Beast Boy stood silent, hoping his silence would go unnoticed.

It didn’t.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cyborg asked again, leaning over and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a...moment,” Beast Boy said, forcing a laugh. Doing so made his stomach turn. “Guess my brain tripped the off switch for a sec,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’ll just drop it in the junk drawer for now,” Robin said, waving his hand dismissively and beckoning the two back over to the table.

“Yeah...” Beast Boy said again, placing the letter face down in the top drawer and sliding it firmly shut.

***

As much as Beast Boy had hoped it would, the pit in his stomach didn’t go away.

During training that afternoon, he had literally transformed into a fish out of water...twice. After lunch, he had consistently lost to Cyborg and Robin in Mario Kart, Smash, and every other game on the shelf. His two friends had even managed to bully Raven into playing, and losing to the worst player in the household (twice) had ultimately sealed his fate. In frustration, he’d resorted to watching the third season of The Office for the seventh time from the safety of his room. When that didn’t work, he switched to Vines. So many Vines. Too many Vines. And yet somehow not enough. Later that night, as he’d shuffled some tofu in a pan on the stove, he caught himself glancing over at the corner drawer every few minutes. Unable to shake the feeling of thick cardstock in this hand, he mindlessly dumped a fistful of soaking wet soy squares into the pan before him, showering himself with droplets of hot oil.

As he yelled out in surprise, there was a laugh from the other end of the room as Cyborg made a joke about the bathroom mirror Beast Boy had clumsily knocked over a few days ago.

“Seven years is a long time, man,” Cyborg laughed.

Beast Boy frowned. For once, he would have gladly attributed today’s mishaps to something as simple as bad luck.

In the darkness, the thoughts only got worse. Now that he’d had ample time to ruminate on who the letter had been addressed to, he shifted his focus to what the letter itself could actually have to say. Every thought that passed through his mind made him shiver, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it. So he kept them all in equal circulation with a sort of morbid, torturing fixation.

Finally, he leaned over and grabbed the clock off his nightstand.

3:23 am.

He shoved it back into place and stared at the blank ceiling above him. Then he kicked off the covers and got out of bed.

Opening the huge metal door to his bedroom silently was virtually impossible, but Beast Boy managed to get through with just one shrill squeak. Before him, the hallway was completely dark and still. He pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight, carefully navigating the short walk to the kitchen. In the main living area moonlight illuminated the hollow room with a lifeless glow.

Pausing between every step, Beast Boy made his way over to the fateful drawer and reached out a hand to open it. He bit his lip as he weighed the pros and cons of what he was about to do. A small voice in the back of his head screamed out, telling him to go back while he still could. This voice of course didn’t have any more of an idea of what the envelope contained than he did. But it at least had the sense to know that opening anything address to...well, Garfield...was asking for trouble.

But while his mind hadn’t yet finished arguing with itself, his body had already made up its mind. One minute his hand was on the drawer handle and the next it wasn’t. One minute his hand had been empty. The next, he found himself rubbing his thumb against the wax seal over and over, as if to test its reality.

He took a deep break and closed his eyes. This time he moved his thumb under the seal instead of over it, the sound of paper ripping ever so gently under...

“Beast Boy!”

Beast Boy’s gaze shot up as he instinctively clenched the letter tighter. Two glowing green eyes met his own from the other side of the room. He froze instantly.

The shadowy figure blinked several times before, with a short gust of wind, it came to a dramatic halt a foot from his face. Decked out in a robe, face smeared with some sort of expensive looking cream, and her hair tied up in a messy bun, Starfire stared down at him disapprovingly

“I was--I’m just--” Beast Boy fumbled.

“Just what?” She whisper-screamed, yanking the envelope out of his hand and wagging it around in the air. “Opening the mail that is not belonging to you is illegal!”

Beast Boy threw his hands in the air and took a step back. “I know, I know. I’m...sorry.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Starfire said, shaking her head.

“Sorry...I just...I didn’t think anyone else was awake,” Beast Boy replied, realizing that the response didn’t exactly prove him any more innocent. He looked Starfire up and down again, trying to gauge how likely it was that she would tell Robin about this. But it was hard to take the disappointment in her face seriously behind all of the beauty products and the towel wrapped around her head. “What are you doing in the kitchen at 3:30 in the morning anyway?” he asked in a desperate attempt to change the conversation.

“I am here to obtain a smoothie before I partake in my morning routine of the blogilates,” Starfire said, arms crossed. She shot him a suspicious look—like the kind that seemed permanently glued to Raven’s face—but it was too comical to take seriously. “I would ask you the same question, but it would seem you have already demonstrated the answer.”

Beast Boy sighed and looked at the floor. He couldn’t meet Starfire’s eyes. “Sorry. I know this looks bad. I just...I really didn’t wanna have to…”

“Have to what?” Starfire questioned.

Beast Boy hesitated. He took a deep breath and managed to get it out in one sentence. “I didn’t wanna have to tell anyone.” He quickly shot her a knowing look, then glanced back off to the side again.

Starfire was silent for a moment.

Even though he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, Beast Boy knew she was staring at him. After a moment her shoulders fell slack. Her jaw dropped, both hands flying to her mouth. She lowered them slowly just enough to speak and, after a minute, whispered, “Do not tell me... you are the Gar of Fields?”

An embarrassed half-smile crept onto Beast Boy’s face. “Kind of. I mean...I guess I am...or was. At least at one point in my life.”

There was a pause. And then Starfire’s expression did a complete 180. She gasped again, but this time with pure amazement--and Beast Boy wasn’t sure he liked this reaction any better.

“Oh, wonderful!” Starfire beamed, her eyes aglow in an entirely different light.

“It...is?” Beast Boy said, feeling a pit forming in his stomach again.

“Of course!” Starfire continued. “It must be that someone from your past is trying to contact you and inquire as to your well being,” she mused, a finger at her lips. “Perhaps it is a relative who wishes to hear of all of your daring heroic exploits? Or a childhood friend who has searched far and wide for you so that they may disclose their true feelings for you! Or a long lost sibling who yearns to be reunited with the brother they’ve never known?”

“Uh...I don’t know about all that,” Beast Boy said uneasily, still reeling from the emotional whiplash of their short conversation.

“Nonsense,” Starfire said, her voice growing more and more above a whisper with every word. She grabbed his arm with her free hand and began to pull. “Come! We must rouse everyone and tell them of the news!”

“Star, no, hold up a sec,” Beast Boy said, grabbing at his wrist, heels dug into the floor. “You don’t understand. You can’t tell anyone .”

Starfire came to an abrupt halt. She released his arm from her grip, and turned to look at Beast Boy, her brow now wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, glancing at the envelope in her hand once more. Beast Boy had never been a very good liar. And even if he were, it was impossible to lie to Starfire. So instead, he took a deep breath and told the truth without telling all of it. “Because… it’s embarrassing and weird,” he said. “I never really liked it.” At these words, his mind immediately jumped to the next logical thought. “Besides, if Raven or Cyborg ever found out they’d never let me live it down.”

“Hmmm,” Starfire hummed, tapping a finger on her cheek again. “Perhaps. But I still think it is a most interesting name and not embarrassing at all,” she smiled. “We already have two friends named after birds. Raven being one of them. My own name might even be considered strange. Raven has already observed that it somewhat resembles that of the equestrian cartoon characters she denies her admiration for.”

“Well, I guess the association with mine isn’t much better,” Beast Boy said, still anxious, but slightly relieved by the amusing predictability of his friend.

“What do you mean?” Starfire asked, puzzled.

“Well...Garfield isn’t really a popular name. The only thing people probably think of when they think of ‘Garfield’ is Garfield the cat. He’s like...a comic strip character or whatever.”

Starfire’s eyes lit up—literally.

“You share the name of a famous fictional feline?!” She exclaimed. “Oh, that is even better than the horses! I do not know how that could possibly be viewed as a negative. ”

Beast Boy didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He just stared at the letter in Starfire’s hand.

With a sigh and a smile, Starfire gently placed a hand on his shoulder, handing him the letter. “Have not the worry, friend. I will keep it the most deepest of secrets if that is what you wish,” she said solemnly.

Beast Boy sighed and looked up at her. “Thanks, Star.”

Starfire stood there only a moment more before she quickly grabbed two granola bars off the counter and turned to make her exit. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then,” she smiled. “I do not wish to intrude upon your communications via the mail of snail.”

Beast Boy managed a weak half-smile back which she matched just before she turned to grab a protein shake and head down the hallway.

Once Starfire was out of sight and well on her way to her destination, Beast Boy made a beeline back to his own room, letter in hand. Just as carefully as he had made his initial exit, he closed the door behind him with only the smallest of screeches. Although he felt a bit silly doing so, he locked the door behind him for good measure.

He turned on the small lamp next to his bed and, very aware of how out of it he was, plopped down on the center of the mattress. The lamp illuminated a few lines of elegant cursive lettering adorning the front of the envelope, the individual letters shining with a subtle reflective glint.

‘Garfield Mark Logan ’

He flipped the envelope over and after a moment of hesitation, ripped the wax seal off as fast as he could, like a band aid. The thick paper inside was folded with geometric precision, and unfurled itself in an almost mechanical fashion. The script inside was written just as carefully—by hand he could tell. With a deep breath, he tried to relax as best he could, and he began to read:

Dear Garfield,

I know that the arrival of this letter must be wholly unexpected and draw many questions to your mind. You likely do not remember me, as we were only acquainted for a short time when you were very young. Ideally, the information I hope to relay to you now would have been communicated some 3 years ago, on the advent of your eighteenth birthday. However, I will admit that it took longer than anticipated to contact you.

Though I may be a stranger to you, I am not so to the Logan family. And I feel that it is time you were made aware of several family matters which presently concern you. I know that the loss of your parents resulted in the loss of the remainder of your blood relatives. But I hope that you may entertain the idea that family runs deeper than blood. I wish you all the best and look forward to seeing you very soon.

Sincerely,

your friend,

Dr. Nicholas Galtry

#teen titans #bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #beast boy #raven #dc

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